The Ivory Eros
by moon71
Summary: Hephaestion is dead and Alexander cannot live without him, but then he receives a tempting offer from a very strange source. Alexander X Hephaistion, rated for naughty bits and death in no particular order. COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

**THE IVORY EROS**

**SUMMARY: **Hephaestion is dead and Alexander is going mad, but a glimmer of hope comes from a very unexpected source. Rated NC17 to be on the safe side

**NOTES: **I would like to dedicate this story to Veronique2 – the idea for it first came to me when I was reading the most excellent "second chances" – but I hope its different enough not to seem like a pirate job!

I would also like to say a huge, massive thank you to all of you who wrote such kind and generous reviews of my last two stories – I was quite overwhelmed!

As it's that time of year as I post this, I want to wish a very happy Christmas to all who celebrate it, and many blessings and much happiness to all of you who don't!

**DISCLAIMER:** (Yawn…) No I don't own anything, anything at all.

He awoke with a heavy head and a churning stomach. His throat was raw. The air he breathed in was stale and thick and his clothes clung clammily to his body. And he was cold. He supposed he had passed out, but why had no-one undressed him, put him to bed? And where was he? Reluctantly he opened his eyes, taking in the red draperies embroidered with golden vines heavy with fruit. He had chosen them himself. So he was in Hephaestion's room. Hephaestion…

_Oh Gods, what a nightmare._ It had only been a nightmare. Hephaestion was lying asleep beneath him. Asleep. Only asleep. But he was cold too. He was cold as ice.

Alexander began to scream. Again.

"My Lord… Alexander… _please…_ for Hephaestion's sake, if not your own… at least… you must eat… bathe…"

Alexander turned wildly upon Bagoas, still clinging tightly to Hephaestion's body. "Did you poison him? I've heard you were jealous! Did you?"

"My Lord…!" The Persian eunuch's beautiful eyes filled with tears.

Perdiccas put a hand on the boy's shoulder, drew him back. "He's right, Alexander. The embalmers are waiting, you can't leave him like this. You must give him his dignity! Think of his shade!"

"Did _you_ kill him, Perdiccas?" Alexander hissed, "did you fancy yourself as Chilliarch?"

"That was unworthy of you, Alexander," Perdiccas replied stiffly, "Hephaestion was my friend too – "

"_NO!"_ Alexander tore at his own ragged hair, "no, no, none of you loved him as I did, none of you! He was mine! He was the one person I knew was truly _mine! He loved me," _he cried, "He loved _me! _And I won't let you snatch him from me!"

"Alexander – "

"Not yet!" A deep groan broke from him as he buried his face in Hephaestion's dampened hair and smelled death in it. "Not yet… leave me alone with him… just a little longer… _please!"_

Perdiccas gave a heavy sigh and nodded to Bagoas. The boy lingered, wanting to speak, but Alexander looked away from him and at last heard the door closed once more. Blinded by tears, he gazed down at the face of his beloved. But there was no comfort to be found in it; the spark of life had gone, the skin had taken on a dull greenish-grey pallor, the eyes would never open again. Reluctantly Alexander looked around the room, suddenly sickened by its ornate luxury. "Oh my love," he sobbed, "how worthless it all seems now… all of it, all the glory, all the struggling, the suffering… what is gold worth to me now? What is silk worth? What is Persia, India… even the crown of Macedon, when my heart is broken and empty?"

Suddenly his eyes settled upon the small statue which stood upon a plinth in the corner. Drawing himself up with painful slowness, he stared hard at it. He did not want the memories it recalled, yet the more he stared, the more clearly he could hear Hephaestion's voice, could see him lying on this bed, just as he was now, but with his face animated with life. He could still hear the words, the words he had not wanted to hear then, the words he now feared would haunt him for the rest of his life…

He had been lying there when Alexander had broken in upon him in an irritable mood and had looked up at his king with a small but suggestive smile. "You look very handsome tonight, my love. Though I do like our Persian costumes, the sight of you in a simple short chiton… giving me a fine view of your legs… is highly pleasing…"

Alexander folded his arms impatiently. "Hephaestion, if this is your idea of a joke your King is not laughing. As it is I've had to walk out of a banquet to wander around the palace looking for you! If you weren't well why didn't you send a servant with an excuse?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, Alexander…" Hephaestion murmured, "I've just been lost in a muse…"

"_What…?"_

Hephaestion nodded to something over Alexander's shoulder. Puzzled, Alexander turned around and came face to face with a statue of a boy carved from the purest ivory he had ever seen, painted only minimally. Its curly hair was gilded, as was the bow it held loosely at its side as it gazed into the distance, as if watching the flight of an arrow it had just let fly. "Eros, Hephaestion? Are you growing old and sentimental?"

Hephaestion shook his head. "Look at him, Alexander. Look closely. I went to commission a likeness of myself to send to my parents and there he was, smirking across the workshop at me, and I had to buy him. Can't you see it yet, my friend? Who does he remind you of?"

Alexander scowled at the sculpture, which smiled smugly back at him with all the self-assurance of youth. "Who made it? I hate them taking liberties with my likeness!"

"You love them taking liberties," Hephaestion sighed, rising to pour himself some wine from the pitcher by his bed. He held out the cup to Alexander but the King shook his head. "He's even got your lovely grey eyes, and he holds his head just like you do… where do you think he came from? It's as if he was made for me… who else would remember you so vividly at that age?"

"What age?" Alexander demanded in growing vexation.

"Can't you see it?" Hephaestion moved over to the sculpture and touched its delicate face. "He's exactly the age you were when we first became lovers! How fresh, how beautiful you were then… even had your mother never said it I would have believed you the child of a god… do you know, in the weeks after I first met you, I'd wake up each morning convinced you were a dream, and each time I'd make my way to our meeting place in the palace grounds my heart would squeeze with joy when I'd see you waiting for me with a smile… Great Gods, how I loved you, even then… but once we became lovers… _then…_ I was convinced after that I would die in my first battle, because to have that much good fortune at so young an age… one couldn't be blessed with long life as well!"

Involuntarily Alexander moved closer to Hephaestion, drawn into the intensity of his mood. Hephaestion turned to him with a dreamy look in his dark eyes; his hand against Alexander's cheek was surprisingly cold. "My love, we must go and join the others…" Alexander sighed, "come, I will help you dress…"

Hephaestion didn't seem to hear him. "Do you remember… it must have been a couple of months after we became lovers… I dared you to sneak off with me so we could make love instead of attending a banquet King Philip was throwing for some dignitaries from Athens?"

Alexander couldn't help smiling. "Of course I remember. You convinced me it was a worthy sacrifice to Eros, who was after all the son of Aphrodite and the creator of all lovers! My father was not impressed."

"Nor was mine. When the King told him he whipped my backside so hard I couldn't sit down for a week, or ride a horse for two!"

Alexander's brows drew together. "You never told me he beat you!"

Hephaestion shrugged. "I understand why he did. He was afraid for me… afraid I'd begun misusing my influence with you, or at least that your parents would think so and have me exiled… or worse…"

Alexander shifted restlessly. "Hephaestion, why bring this up now?"

Hephaestion took a sip of wine, then laid the cup aside and met Alexander's gaze with fierce defiance. Alexander started slightly as Hephaestion's arms locked about his waist and drew him close. "Because I want to know if there's anything left of _him_ in you. Is there, Alexander? Do you still have any of his passion, his joy? His mischief? Will you help me make another sacrifice to Eros? Will you snub your guests one more time to make love with me?"

Alexander relaxed, chuckling. "Hephaestion, you are incorrigible. Come, my love, much as the offer tempts me, I – "

Before he could complete the sentence, Hephaestion kissed him, deeply, passionately, challengingly. When he let him go they gazed at each other, breathing hard. "Well… beloved?" Hephaestion panted.

Alexander was embarrassed to find himself blushing. "What excuse would I send to my guests?"

"The simple truth… that you were off having sex with the Grand Vizier!"

"You think the Companions will accept that?"

"No, you're right… tell them you were off having sex with the Chilliarch!"

"Hephaestion – "

"I love you, Alexander…" Hephaestion's words were little more than a soft breath on Alexander's neck as he brushed his lips against it. A fire lit in Alexander's body, a fire only Hephaestion could ignite. In a moment they had shed their clothes and scrambled beneath the sheets like excitable boys, touching and kissing as if for the first time. Alexander was overwhelmed by his own ardour, the kisses he took from Hephaestion's lips were rough and greedy, his probing fingers left red marks behind them. He clung to him as if snatching him back from thieving hands, fighting back tears when he reached his climax and whispering again and again, "you're mine… mine… mine…"

And Hephaestion had only encouraged him, willing him on to greater and greater frenzy, "yes, Alexander, yes, take me, _yes!"_ Almost as if he was competing in a duel with Hephaestion as both the opponent and the prize.

But afterwards as he reclined in Hephaestion's arms, accepting a cup of wine from him, he was troubled. "What is it, Hephaestion?" he demanded suddenly, "what is this all about?"

"Didn't you enjoy it?"

"You know I did. But something is bothering you, I can feel it. Its not Bagoas is it? If the boy's getting under your feet… or being cocky with you…"

"Bagoas is irrelevant, Alexander, he always has been."

"Roxana then? I know she's been unhappy since the new marriages…" Alexander hesitated. "That's what this is about, isn't it! You've been in a strange mood since your wedding!"

"Marriage changes a man," Hephaestion joked airily, but Alexander was not to be put off.

"Is it Drypetis… does she displease you so much? You know why I chose her, I thought…"

"Alexander, there's nothing wrong with her. As a matter of fact, I've become rather fond of her, we may even make you an uncle before you know it, the Gods willing… and assuming you don't send me away on any long missions…" He shifted, leaning forward to look at Alexander. "Do you know, that's the first time you've asked me about my wedding night?"

"I wasn't exactly asking about…"

"It was quite a new experience for me. I never thought I could enjoy being with a woman in that way, not after you… I mean, as a boy, even after we'd become lovers, I expected to marry, but then when we became men and we were still lovers I just forgot all about it. When the wedding night finally came I was afraid I wouldn't be able to perform, after all, she's so plump and soft and feminine, I couldn't exactly close my eyes and think of you… but actually it worked in my favour. Drypetis tells me gossip spreads like wildfire through a harem – our intelligence networks have nothing on theirs! And in a very discreet way she let me know that she had an idea I was a virgin to women. We ended up giggling together like a couple of girls, which was reasonable enough for her but a bit embarrassing for me…"

"Hephaestion, I still don't understand what this has got to do with…"

"She is an enigma to me, Alexander… in some ways so innocent, in others, wise beyond her years. She is willing to trust me with her heart knowing full well that mine belongs to you. And it makes me wonder if a so-called barbarian, a girl almost half my age who has seen little of the world beyond one harem after another, doesn't know more about finding the key to true happiness than an army of Greek philosophers. I even considered writing to Aristotle about it… then I changed my mind."

"I'm very glad for you, my friend," Alexander replied sullenly, "its good to know that you've managed so quickly to achieve the sort of harmony with your wife that I have never achieved with any of mine, or any other lover for that matter besides you." He shifted petulantly away when Hephaestion clucked soothingly and ruffled his hair. "Another timely demonstration, if tonight wasn't enough, that I need you more than you need me!"

"Alexander, that's unworthy of you," Hephaestion reproached him, leaning back into the pillows, "this isn't about Drypetis! She's just reminded me of what I once had with you."

"So you're just like all the others! You're sick of Persia, sick of…" Alexander glanced about at their lavish surroundings, "all of this, you want to dismiss all these people as barbarians, say they haven't touched you, then skulk off back to Macedon and pretend you're still as Greek as Athens!"

Hephaestion gave a very deep sigh. "Alexander, you know this has nothing to do with Persia or anything in it. I'm not like Crateros or those other thick-headed boors! I happen to love these rooms; I happen to love this palace. And unlike some of your officers, I happen to be quite happy with my Persian bride! That has nothing to do with… with tonight. Do you really not understand, or do you just not want to?"

Alexander flung himself testily out of Hephaestion's bed. "Enough of this, come on, get dressed, we can still join the others, I'll think of some excuse."

Hephaestion lay where he was, staring up at the ceiling. "There was a time you thought there was no greater pleasure than for us to lie in each other's arms and talk. Now it seems you'd rather get drunk than listen to me."

"Now it's you who speaks unworthily," Alexander retorted. "Come on, I said enough of this nonsense, get up."

Hephaestion shook his head. There was no anger on his face now, it was smooth as a mask. "I've got a headache, I think I'm coming down with something. Go on, I'll come to you in the morning. Health to you, my love." And with that, he turned over and went to sleep.

"_You fool!"_ Alexander cursed himself again and again, _"you stupid, blind, lecherous fool!"_ Why had he not paid more attention to Hephaestion that night, why had he not seen the signs – the cold hands, the hot brow, the overbright eyes, the morbid turn of thought – and recognised the symptoms of coming sickness instead of worrying about how his words unsettled him and stabbed at his self-assurance? He had made use of that precious body, ravaging it, violating it, instead of nurturing and tending it.

Worst of all, he had very nearly passed up what had proved to be his last chance to make love to Hephaestion, just because of a witless drinking contest designed to relieve his increasingly troubled mind and persistently restive spirit. The next day Hephaestion was there, apparently happy and well and devoid of his strange melancholy, though he seemed rather remote. That night the drinking contests resumed and by the next day Hephaestion had fallen sick.

"_And I wasn't even there for you, my own dearest love…"_ Alexander sobbed afresh, _"but I understand now… I understand, and you're right, you're right…None of this matters, none of it, it's all meaningless without someone to share it with, someone to trust your heart, your dreams, your hopes to…but why did they have to take you from me to let me see that? I thought the gods were with me… now I know they were only laughing at me, watching me fly closer and closer to the sun so they could melt my wings… "_

Alexander turned sharply as he heard the sound of weeping outside the door. Drypetis? He had been cruel to her, hadn't let her come to her husband. He hadn't let anyone come to Hephaestion. But it didn't sound like her. He thought it was one of Hephaestion's pages, maybe the youngest one, who gossip suggested was in love with his Commander, though Hephaestion had never taken advantage of it. He ought to let the embalmers in, let others pay their respects. But he did not want to. He did not want them to mourn with him. What was their grief next to his?

_A sacrifice to Eros! _Alexander snarled contemptuously. _Eros paid no attention to you, Hephaestion, none! He did nothing to protect our love when we needed him most! _Slowly his gaze shifted to the ivory statue, who smiled back at him with a knowing expression. Hephaestion had been right, it looked frighteningly like he had at that age. _"I hate you!"_ he screamed at it, "you, you pompous, self-satisfied little prig! Thought you knew it all, didn't you, son of Zeus! What have you got to look so smug about? Do you think you loved him better than I did? You had it all too easy – _he_ made it easy for you! He gave you whatever you wanted, he knew what you needed, he even loved you in a way that protected your precious sensibilities! What did you know about the price I've had to pay for _your_ wild dreams? _You'd_ never imagine your father being murdered and people believing you did it, never feared friends turning on you, _you'd_ never have… have killed someone you loved in a drunken rage… you'd never have to make the choice to massacre a city full of people… to crucify your own men… yes, its _your_ dreams _I_ have to suffer for… _your_ wild ambitions _he _had to suffer for, _your_ beautiful Hephaestion, your _philalexandros!"_ In a sudden burst of murderous rage, Alexander leapt off the bed, staggered over to the statue and lifted it, determining to dash out its ivory brains against the wall.

"_Alexander!"_

The King froze, then whirled around. _"I said I was to be left alone!"_

His shout echoed in the empty room. Alexander glanced about him, his head spinning, beginning to doubt his senses. Slowly he became aware that he had his hand locked around the Eros' neck. And that its neck was warm. And that it had a pulse.

Madness had come at last. Silently, not moving his hand or looking around to see what it clutched, he closed his eyes and murmured a prayer. He was not quite sure whether he feared insanity or welcomed it, so he simply asked for guidance.

"Alexander, remove your hand from my throat. When the gods honour you with their presence, you should not try to choke them to death. That's better. Now open your eyes and look at me."

Reluctantly, Alexander did as he was told. As a child he had dreamed of a moment like this, longed to be visited by the gods just like the heroes of the past. Now he felt a cold, sick panic. His belief in the immortal ones had never wavered, but then nor had his sense of acting with their absolute support, until Hephaestion's death.

His eyes fell upon the ivory Eros. Only it was no longer ivory. It was, at least in appearance, now a boy of flesh and blood. And not just any boy.

"Who are you?" Alexander demanded in a thin voice, looking down into the dreamy grey eyes, "Eros? Zeus? Or just an echo of my own past, a younger self back to reproach me for letting Hephaestion die?"

"In a sense I am all of those," the boy responded, grinning infuriatingly at him, "in a sense, I am none." He cocked his head as if in mocking imitation of Alexander. "Perhaps the gods have taken pity on your terrible grief. Perhaps, after all, the little sacrifice you and Hephaestion made to me did not go unnoticed."

"Or perhaps I have lost my mind…"

"Oh, well… if that is the case, who or what I am doesn't matter, does it?" Suddenly the boy looked down to the bed. "How peaceful he looks. And he will be at peace, very soon."

"So that's why you've come…" Alexander groaned softly, blinded by tears, "as Patroklos came to Achilles, begging him to put him on his pyre without more delay? If that's all which summoned you, couldn't you have sent Hephaestion himself? Let me talk to him one more time? Let me ask his forgiveness for not… not…"

"Are you never satisfied with the gifts the gods shower upon you, Alexander, son of Philip?" the boy asked, raising one golden brow meaningfully.

Alexander sank down onto the bed. "If you are truly divine – "

"_If?"_

"Forgive me, forgive me, I can't think… but I had hoped, wished, just for a moment…"

"Be careful, Alexander," the boy admonished, "be careful what you wish for. Think before you speak."

But Alexander could contain himself no longer. If this was a dream, he was certain waking from it would drive him to madness, unless, as he suspected, he was already mad. But if it wasn't... "If you are truly divine then you know what I want," he gasped, "can you grant my wish? Could it be done?"

"Again, I ask you to think before you ask it. There are other possibilities. I know you fear an eternal separation. What if you are, after all, the son of Zeus and he only a man? You could ask for him to be made a God – immortal, all powerful! The wish would not be granted," the boy added with a wry shrug, "but he will be accepted as a Divine Hero! What a fine honour for your brave beloved! And, when your time comes…"

"No... _no!" _The words broke from Alexander in a wail of despair, "no, what comfort can there be in that _now?_ If you hadn't come, if I had asked, alone, in good faith, perhaps then…"

"Yes, I know… and yet, I had to come… I did not come before, and…"

"You know what I want!" Alexander interrupted, not understanding the boy's musings and not wanting to. "If you won't say it, I will!"

"Alexander, let me say again – "

"_Can you do it? Can you bring Hephaestion back to life?"_

"There is a terribly high price to pay for such things, Alexander, Conqueror of the World…"

"_My life!"_ Alexander blurted, _"my life for Hephaestion's!"_

To his fury, the blonde boy actually laughed. "What good would that do? You would still be separated – the only difference is that he would be lying here weeping instead of you! No, the price is much higher than that – nor," he added, holding up his hand to silence the King's protests, "can it be chosen by you, or him. You are asking to change a future already laid out for you. Balance will not be easily restored. And Hades is not easily appeased."

"Whatever the price, I'll pay it," Alexander whispered. His head was swimming; he was now half certain he was about to awaken from this dream and steeled himself for the rush of utter despair. "If you can't do it then say so and wipe my mind of this vision – or take my life now and end this waking death!"

"You speak so certainly…" the boy moved with youthful grace around the bed to stand at Hephaestion's shoulder, stretched out delicate white fingers to touch the cold brow. "We will see, Alexander son of Philip, we will see just how long your certainty holds…" Without warning, he leaned right across Hephaestion's body, slipped his small hand behind Alexander's head and kissed the king with an open mouth, his childish lips surprisingly strong and firm. Alexander gave a muffled gasp as dizziness overwhelmed him, for a brief second he felt certain he was dying, that in order to fulfil his request to be reunited with Hephaestion the Eros intended to kill him too. _Let death come, _he thought, _if it means eternity in Hephaestion's arms… _But death didn't come. All at once the boy released him and with the tenderness of a lover, fitted his lips over Hephaestion's dead mouth. For a moment Alexander stared, then tore his eyes away in horror and confusion. _If this is a dream,_ he thought, _then please forgive me, Hephaestion, it wasn't one I could control._ Weak as a newborn, he sank down on to the bed, gradually becoming aware of a warmth pulsing up through his body, of a strange, lightening, floating sensation, a mellow dreamlike version of the euphoria which sometimes gripped him when he had only just escaped death in battle. Then he felt nothing at all.

He started violently, his head jerking up as he caught the first convulsive motion from the corner of his eye. For a moment Hephaestion's body seemed locked as if in a dying spasm. Then came the first wheezy breath of life. Seconds later, colour flooding into his waxen cheeks, Hephaestion began to struggle up with the helpless, uncoordinated movements of one fighting to awaken from a nightmare. As Alexander ran instinctively to his side, his lover was seized by a violent, wracking cough so harsh it seemed to tear through him. Vacant eyes snapped open then squeezed shut as he leaned over and began to throw up enormous quantities of a thick, foul black liquid. Ignoring the splatter which struck his face and clothes, Alexander took hold of Hephaestion and thumped his back before locking his arms around him, not daring to let him go for fear a break in human contact might allow him to sink back to wherever he had been. _"Perdiccas!" _Alexander screamed, _"Bagoas! Anyone! Get in here now!"_

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**THE IVORY EROS - CHAPTER 2**

**NOTES: An absolutely massive thank you to all of you who have given such speedy and generous reviews, I really wasn't sure what you'd make of this! Hope you all enjoy the next bit! **

"_Well?"_

"Y-yes, my King… physically, he – he seems – seems in good health…" Glaucias' hands were trembling visibly as he examined Hephaestion; after two days imprisonment and as yet no formal pardon, it was not surprising. At least Alexander was too distracted to question why the man had not already been tied to a cross.

The room which had only an hour ago smelled of death now buzzed with life. Windows had been thrown open, incense burned. While officers and court officials clustered into the room as the news spread, singing praises to the gods, demanding explanations or simply gaping stupidly as they denied what their own eyes saw, Bagoas focused only on Hephaestion's needs, the better to serve Alexander's. Later, withdrawn into his own room he could ponder the shock, study his own muddled and conflicting responses to this unearthly miracle. For now he organised the swarm of servants, ordering fresh linen, wine, cloths, hot water and cleansing oils. Two of Hephaestion's pages had burst into the room moments before, the elder, Admetus, looking as though he was about to pass out, the younger, Hylas, who had been sitting for hours on the floor outside Hephaestion's rooms and quietly weeping, would have thrown himself bodily onto his commander if Bagoas hadn't gently restrained him. The eunuch took both of them in hand with a tone of command any soldier would have envied, sent one to fetch fresh garments for Hephaestion, sent the other to do the same for Alexander. Then he ordered one of the servants to draw a bath. Hephaestion might not be strong enough to take one, but Alexander would want one soon enough and Bagoas doubted he would be leaving Hephaestion's rooms for some time.

"Alexander," Perdiccas was demanding, "what in Hades just happened?"

"…_Alex-ander…?_" Bagoas' gaze snapped up as the Grand Vizier spoke for the first time in a voice so thin and raw it was barely audible.

"Yes, love, I'm here, I'm here," Alexander soothed, tightening his already suffocating embrace. Slowly Hephaestion turned his head and looked at him.

"I simply cannot understand it, my King…" fluttered the physician, "in nothing I have seen or read… perhaps a very deep trance, a coma… a catatonia…"

"Catatonia my arse!" barked Leonatus with great tact. Alexander scowled at him, but Bagoas sensed no malice in it; though he and the other Generals would rather have died than own it, they were governed by their superstitions and this surely supernatural, possibly divine deliverance had frightened them. "We've all seen enough corpses in our time and he was one! He was dead, by Zeus, stone cold dead!"

"…_dead…?"_ echoed Hephaestion, turning with that same slowness towards Leonatus.

"Its all right, my love," Alexander cooed like a nursemaid to her infant, pressing a kiss to Hephaestion's damp brow, "you're back with us now… Leonatus, will you please _shut up!"_ Alexander's anger, brief but brilliant, vanished once more as Bagoas approached to offer him a scented cloth. He felt, rather than saw, Alexander's grateful smile; his eyes had been fixed for some moments on Hephaestion and his heart, which had slowed after the initial shock, had begun to beat fast once again. As Hephaestion's dark eyes settled upon his, a cold shiver ran down the Persian's body. Hardly knowing what possessed him, he reached out a hand and placed it briefly upon Hephaestion's arm, making sure the man was looking at him when he spoke.

"My King," Bagoas began, leaning forward ostensibly to whisper to Alexander, but still not breaking eye contact with the invalid, "perhaps the Physician could be allowed to examine _Hephaestion_ in privacy? We must consider _Hephaestion's_ dignity, as _Grand Vizier…"_ He saw the pale lips mouthing the name he had pronounced with such emphasis and nodded fractionally to him.

"You're quite right, Bagoas, and as thoughtful as always," Alexander declared, "leave, all of you! I will tell you what I know when I am certain Hephaestion is well enough to be left alone. Go! A moment, Bagoas," he added as the others began to depart, "fetch some hot water and oil, I'll tend to – "

"All you need is waiting on the dresser, my King," Bagoas answered softly, "I will be outside should you need me."

"Bless you, Bagoas!" Alexander suddenly leaned forward, still supporting Hephaestion in one arm, and kissed Bagoas' cheek. Hephaestion looked from one to the other with those haunted eyes, then looked down again with a frown.

Bagoas could not wait to get out of the room, to find a quiet corner in which to be alone to think, to consider, to say a prayer to the One God. He had been used to Hephaestion's indifference; occasionally he was favoured with a look of amusement, impatience or disdain, but never anything more. He doubted he had ever held Hephaestion's gaze for more than the blink of an eye. That stare he had just encountered was one he felt would haunt his dreams for many nights to come. It held sadness, confusion, not a little fear. It also held absolutely no recognition.

Alexander could not bring himself to break contact completely. He held Hephaestion's hand as Glaucias examined and questioned him. "My… head aches," Hephaestion was saying, "my… back and legs hurt… so do my… arms… my throat is sore…"

"I would recommend a _small _quantity of well watered wine, mixed with honey," Glaucias said with some of his old firmness, avoiding Alexander's gaze but looking at his patient with as much reproach as he dared, "and absolutely _no_ solids until I say so. A light vegetable broth, perhaps… if and when you feel hungry… again, a _very small_ amount only…"

Alexander scowled at him, making a mental note to send for a replacement as soon as he could. Hephaestion had been an idiot to eat against orders, Alexander had been an idiot to leave him; but none of this would have happened if Glaucias had not left him too.

"Beyond that, I recommend plenty of rest – "

"Rest?" Alexander felt Hephaestion tense. "No, I don't want to sleep! Not again!"

"Don't worry, I'll stay with you," Alexander assured him, raising the hand he held to his lips and kissing it fervently. It was only then that the reality of the situation struck him and he found himself unable to raise his head for the waves of emotion surging up through his body. "That will be all for now…" he managed to mumble to the physician before the tears forced their way from his eyes and a sob swelled in his throat. He barely heard the door close before he broke down completely. _"Oh gods!"_ he cried, _"oh blessed, merciful, all powerful gods of Olympus…!" _He sank down, plunging his head into Hephaestion's lap. "F-forgive my s-stupid weakness…" he choked out as he felt Hephaestion's hand begin to stroke his hair, "but I thought – I – truly Hephaestion, if you only knew how terrible it was… without…"

"Its all right, Alexander," Hephaestion murmured gently, "I think I'm back now… already this feels more real than… than where I was…this is a beautiful room," he continued with a tone of childish wonder, "is it mine?"

Mastering himself, Alexander looked up. "Of course it is, my love. But here, what a fool I'm being…" wiping his eyes, he finally let go of Hephaestion long enough to bring over the bowl of warm water. He gently undressed his lover, wiping his face, chest and arms before drawing back the covers and beginning to wash his belly, thighs and private parts, a small tender smile touching Alexander's lips as a blush visibly suffused Hephaestion's cheeks. "Surely you're not shy of me, all of a sudden?"

"You're the King," Hephaestion said suddenly, as if after much thought, "and I'm the… Grand Vizier…?"

"Well yes, that's true, but after all, who's watching us?"

Hephaestion glanced about them. "No-one that I can see…"

Grinning, Alexander finished washing him then slipped a heavily embroidered, fur lined robe about his shoulders and drew away for just a moment as a servant arrived carrying the honey to mix with the wine. At least Glaucias was being efficient this time. When he returned to his friend's side, Hephaestion had drawn the robe close about himself and was staring down at the decorative gold stitching on one of the cuffs. "It's very beautiful," he said after a long pause, "is it mine too?"

Alexander halted in the middle of pouring wine into a cup. Slowly he turned to look at Hephaestion. "I chose it for you," he said, keeping his voice calm. When Hephaestion didn't answer, Alexander came to sit beside him, placing the wine cup in both his hands. "Drink…it will make you feel better…"

Hephaestion leaned back into his arms. "You're… very beautiful too…and kind… and you smell nice," he observed, as if from the depths of a dream.

"Nice! I feel disgusting! I haven't bathed for two days!"

"Is that how long I was sick for?"

Alexander could put it off no longer. "Hephaestion… how much do you remember?"

Hephaestion stared down into his cup. After a moment he raised it to his lips and sipped, swallowing with obvious discomfort. "I drank some water… strange water… from a cup like this… and then… emptiness. I fought… I fought to hold on… some of it… but… its no use, I can't get it back… Please, I've tried, but you'll have to tell me. Who are you, Alexander? And… who am I?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**THE IVORY EROS – CHAPTER 3**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: ** I've said it before and I'll say it again: THANK YOU to all of you wonderful people who have taken the time to review this story! I was quite overcome by how much pleasure this story is giving you! Rest assured it will be completed, in reality it already is but it's so long I thought it was more fun to break it down. I hope this next chapter will answer a few questions about why Hephaestion's memory has been taken from him…

**SPECIAL NOTE: **to Trust No One – I am very well aware you've already written a most excellent story about Hephaestion losing his memory; I hope you won't think I've swiped your idea, its purely a coincidence!

**SUMMARY: **So Hephaestion is back but without his memory – Alexander thinks he's paid the price for having him back but he's in for a surprise…

Alexander moaned deeply as he sank into the warm water and closed his aching eyes. Never could he remember feeling quite this tired, never had he so longed for the oblivion of sleep, not even after battle, not even after the days and nights in that accursed desert.

Glaucias was, perhaps understandably, reluctant to make a diagnosis. It could be the fever, he suggested; as to whether the memory would return… certainly Hephaestion was capable of remembering what was being said to him, was alert and aware and could learn. Alexander actually found himself feeling sorry for the old quack – after all, he was working in the dark; Alexander was not about to tell him about the more divine aspects of Hephaestion's recovery. He was not absolutely sure he believed in them himself.

He needed time alone to think. Ordering Glaucias to say nothing until told otherwise, he then sent for little lovesick Hylas and gave him strict instructions to sit with Hephaestion until his officer fell asleep, to do what he wanted but ask no questions. "Read something to him…" Alexander said suddenly, "run and fetch my copy of the _Iliad_ from my room, Bagoas knows where it is."

The poor boy smiled radiantly, looking as pleased as if he had been invited to spend a night in the arms of Aphrodite herself; he returned, flushed and slightly breathless, his blue eyes widening as Hephaestion smiled softly at him and patted the space beside him on the bed. "Please come closer," Alexander heard him say, "your warmth is comforting after…"

"I won't be long, Hephaestion," Alexander interrupted, giving him a hard look before going to his bath. He had to think… he had to _think…_

"_Alexander… wake, Alexander…" _

The King stirred, mortified to have fallen asleep. The water around him had grown cold. He glanced about him, looking for the source of the voice. A moment later, the gilt haired, ivory skinned boy came into view. "So, Alexander, son of Philip, are you pleased with what you wished for?"

"A high price!" Alexander shook his head bitterly. "You gods have a twisted sense of humour! Robbing Hephaestion of his memory? It was my wish, not his – why punish him like that?"

The boy lowered his eyes. "That was not the price of bringing him back, Alexander. That was merely Hades' price for letting him go. The dead are privy to certain… knowledge… before they drink from the river of forgetfulness. Before he would release him, the underworld god gave him a cup of that magical water to drink. He took only a few sips, I saw to that. But it had done its work." A horrible thought came to Alexander, but he dismissed it, ashamed of his own selfishness. Nevertheless, the boy seemed to pluck it from his mind. "You wonder if he has forgotten his love for you. Do not be ashamed to wonder. He has not forgotten everything… how much he remembers must now be up to him… and perhaps to you too."

"But if _that_ isn't the price – and you won't take my life – what else - ?"

"Don't you know yet? No, it is still early, I see. But you will. The only question remaining is how hard you will make the payment, on yourself, on him… that at least will be up to you." The grey eyed boy glanced tenderly toward the bedchamber. "The answers to both your questions lie there, if you can see them. Yours was the first face he saw when he returned to the upper world. Yours were the first arms to hold him, the first lips to kiss him, the first voice to speak words of comfort. Do you see? No? He needs you, he needs you more than he ever has before. Now do you see?"

Beginning to shiver, Alexander shook his head again and rose from the water. "I can't see anything… I can't think…"

"You are tired. Go to him. I will send Hypnos to you both. Alexander…!" the boy called, as Alexander threw on a robe and began to move away, "you have not told me if you are pleased with what you wished for!"

The gentle words went through Alexander like a catapult bolt. Turning slowly, he looked down into those sparkling eyes, then bent his head, dropped to his knees and raised his hands in supplication. "I, Alexander… offer my deepest, humblest gratitude to the all-powerful gods for restoring to me their most precious gift… Hephaestion… son of Amyntor…" his voice wavered with emotion but he mastered himself. "Tomorrow morning, I shall sacrifice twenty white bulls to Zeus, thirty…"

"Alexander…" the boy's touch sent a strange, tingling sensation through Alexander's skin as he tilted his head up, lowering his own smaller one to meet it. "Your acknowledgement is all we ask for…" Alexander trembled as the small, soft lips once more brushed his own, then he was alone again.

Hylas was bending over Hephaestion when Alexander entered the bedchamber; the page glanced up warily, then whispered, "he's sleeping, Sire… I am happy to sit with him, I promise not to fall asleep…"

"That's all right," Alexander sighed, "get yourself to bed. But before you do, go to my rooms and tell my servants I'll be sleeping here tonight." He smiled wearily as he saw Hylas' gaze lingering anxiously on his master. "I know. Don't worry, the gods will see that he's still here in the morning."

Hylas nodded, chewing his lower lip, still staring at Hephaestion. "Health to you, Sire…"

"Hylas…" Alexander said tiredly, "would you like to kiss him good-night?"

Hylas glanced up, flushing as rosily as Alexander had at his age. His skin was so translucent, his hair such a light gold, he reminded the King oddly of the ivory Eros. Who, in turn, resembled… Alexander watched him closely as he placed a soft kiss on Hephaestion's cheek, then retreated from the room without another word. Then Alexander looked down at Hephaestion, not quite yet sure what any of this meant. Then he pulled back the covers and was about to shed his robe to climb in beside Hephaestion. But then the same strange uncertainty he had had just a moment ago with Hylas resurfaced. _Yours were the first arms to hold him, the first lips to kiss him…_ but would that be enough? And was that all there was left? He did not understand, he still did not understand…

Keeping his robe wrapped about him, he slipped into the bed, very gently drawing Hephaestion into his arms. A small moan escaped him as his lover snuggled close, his limbs curling familiarly about Alexander's through the tangle of bedclothes.

"I won't hear of it, Hephaestion! You don't yet know what you're dealing with! _Who_ you're dealing with - !"

"Was I that unpopular?"

"You… had – have – enemies. You also have friends!"

"And friends who might really be enemies?"

"Hephaestion - !" Alexander stopped pacing and sat down on the bed, glaring at the invalid. "Its out of the question."

"Alexander – may I call you that? In front of anyone - ?"

"Yes, yes, of course…"

"Alexander listen to me. You're right, I know nothing of the people I'm dealing with. But I'm not a child. Whatever this fever did to me it didn't make me a halfwit. Let them come to me, alone or in small groups, you can stay with me while they talk, or have that young Hylas do it, I think I can trust him? Or that other one, the dark one with the lovely eyes, what did you call him, Bagoas? He was kind to me…" Alexander frowned at him but let him go on. "Let them tell me as much as they can, just as you have. I need to hear it, Alexander - already, all you have told me in the last two days is filling that black void, that terrible emptiness… I have memories, already! I have a family, parents, sisters you say, a home, a past! This morning, when I woke, I had so many things to remember, not like when I woke the first time and…"

"But with me it's different! You know you can trust me!"

"Yes, I know I can trust you," Hephaestion agreed slowly, "but I don't know why."

Grunting irritably, Alexander pulled back the bedclothes, took up the bottle of olive oil from the dresser, sniffed it experimentally then reached for a small phial of herbal infusions to mix with it. "One thing hasn't changed," he muttered as he warmed the oil in his hands and lifted one of Hephaestion's legs into his lap, "you're still as stubborn as a mule… and you've still got the legs of a thoroughbred."

Hephaestion winced as Alexander's fingers dug into his muscles. "As long as I can walk on them, I don't care who I stole them from… you were telling me about crossing the Hellespont… what did we do there?"

"Oh, we visited Troy, and you and I – " Alexander stopped suddenly. "Then we and the army made a sacrifice to Achilles and Patroklos. After that…"

"Achilles and Patroklos? Troy – as in the _Iliad!_ Hylas has read me nearly half of it now! He might have finished if I didn't keep interrupting… so much seems to have happened before Achilles goes off and sulks… Hylas said the war had already lasted nearly ten years? I admire Patroklos, standing by him… I hope Achilles appreciated what a good friend he had…"

"He does by the end," Alexander said, _by the time it's too late…_

"Hylas keeps blushing whenever I ask about those two… am I missing something? Mind you, Hylas blushes whenever I look at him. He's so young to be so far from home…"

"No younger than you and I were when we were pages… to my father…" Alexander concentrated on rubbing hard at Hephaestion's muscular thigh and ignoring the pleasure he gained from doing so.

"Alexander… as Grand Vizier did I have men working under me? A staff of some kind? Did I have papers? I'd like to see them."

"I'll see to it."

"I'd like to see my staff too, if I do have any. And you said I command the cavalry? Could I see some of my men?"

Alexander closed his eyes briefly. "All right, you win. But not alone. If I can't be with you, Hylas, Admetus… or Bagoas. Here… take your robe off and turn over, I'll rub your back."

"Your men must love you, Alexander, if you take this trouble over all of them!"

"You're something of a special case, my love."

Hephaestion turned over onto his front and did not answer.

Of course the news spread faster than Alexander would have liked, despite each group of visitors promising to keep silent until Hephaestion's condition became common knowledge. Hephaestion didn't seem nearly as worried as Alexander was; he seemed to thrive on the company of others as he never had before and once he was allowed his own papers and journals he asked to see the strangest people, some he had once considered beneath his contempt, others he had more openly disliked.

For a while he pestered to be sent Eumenes, for reasons Alexander could not comprehend, but Alexander's secretary was so wary, especially when Alexander insisted on sitting in on the meeting, that he could only babble apologies and excuses. Afterwards, Hephaestion seemed disappointed. "He'll never tell me the truth," he declared, leaning sullenly back into the pillows.

"What truth did you want to hear?" Alexander had asked.

"His truth. Why he disliked me so much."

"Who said that he – " Alexander began, but Hephaestion grinned at him with a touch of his old irony.

"I did. It seems I kept notes… on a lot of things. It also seems as though I rarely forgot a slight…"

Some of these insights into his lover's private world were quite disconcerting. One afternoon, Alexander had returned from a staff briefing to find Hephaestion deep in thought, a pile of letters in front of him. "Come on, its time you took your exercise," Alexander said, drawing back the covers and reaching for the massage oil. "Who are these ones from?"

"Queen Olympias," Hephaestion answered.

"_Mother - ?"_ Alexander had almost dropped the oil all over Hephaestion. "You never told me she wrote to you!"

"I'm sorry, but judging from her letters, perhaps I didn't want you to know… Alexander," he added after a moment, "Who was Cleitos?"

Alexander frowned, beginning to warm Hephaestion's leg muscles. "I'll… explain later. Why?"

"She says it's my fault that he's dead. Did I kill him?"

"No," Alexander replied with a deep sigh, "I did. May the gods forgive me."

"Oh." There was another lengthy pause. "Yes, I see."

"What do you see?"

"Well, she seems more concerned with the unhappiness it caused you than for Cleitos himself."

"That's mother!" Alexander replied wryly. "I'm sorry Hephaestion. Regardless of why you didn't tell me, I'll write to her. She shouldn't be throwing poison darts like that from Macedon!"

"No, don't – look… she's obviously responding to things I've written, so I must have written back… shall I ask my scribe if he kept copies?"

"I'd… rather you didn't."

Amongst the visitors was Drypetis, escorted by Stateira with Bagoas as a translator. As it was, Bagoas was almost unnecessary. Drypetis had entered holding her sister's hand, apparently apprehensive of seeing her husband, but when Hephaestion straightened up, smiling shyly, the princess lifted her diaphanous veil and bowed to him, a radiant smile lighting up her plump, pretty face. "You look well, my Hephaestion," she murmured in Persian. Stateira glanced warily over to Alexander, watching his reaction to her sister's familiarity, but he kept his face neutral. She was his wife, yet how little he knew of her. Did his possible jealousy over Drypetis and Hephaestion trouble her more than the fact of his relationship with him? He stopped worrying about it when Hephaestion responded – in the same language.

"I am… sorry I cannot remember our wedding," the Grand Vizier told her slowly, "but… am sure it was a happy day." Diffidently, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, ignoring the gaping looks and shrugs being exchanged over his head. Alexander suddenly felt a voyeur; memories flooded back of what Hephaestion had told him, that strange evening, of his wedding night. He had never really watched the two of them together but it was already apparent Drypetis was more at ease with her husband than Stateira was with hers. He glanced over to his wife, who lifted her dark eyes slowly, offering him a gentle smile.

"Come, Bagoas," Alexander said, rising abruptly. Stateira glanced towards her own maids, gave an order in soft Persian and they fluttered out like brightly coloured birds. Frowning faintly, Alexander followed them with Bagoas on his heels.

"It has been another long day for you, My King," said the eunuch, "I will draw your bath and ask the cooks to have a light meal brought to your rooms…"

"No, I'll eat in Heph…" Alexander trailed off. "You're right, of course." But he glanced back involuntarily to the room they had just left.

Once Alexander reached his own room, he let Bagoas fuss about him, sinking gratefully into the bath and letting the Persian rub him down. "My Lord… Alexander…" Bagoas began hesitantly, "about Hephaestion…"

"Oh, yes, he says you've been very kind to him these past few months…"

"Alexander, why have you not told him? About… what he… about what he and you… about the fact that he belongs to you! My Lord, you must, or someone else will fill his head with lies!"

"You suspect her? Drypetis?" Alexander demanded.

"N-no, Alexander, I suspect… no-one, yet…"

Yet. Alexander breathed out heavily. Bagoas had hit upon exactly what had been bothering him even before Hephaestion had begun receiving visitors. He was jealous – jealous of the odd charm this new, unknown Hephaestion possessed. He was pestered by ridiculous visions of someone else working their way into his lover's affections and stealing his heart before Alexander could win it back. Alexander himself was charmed by him all over again, though to him this Hephaestion was not as new as all that, but rather a return to how he had been when they were boys, before necessity and experience had hardened him. This Hephaestion laughed joyfully at his soldiers' stupidest jokes, wept quite openly when Alexander read to him of Patroklos' fate. "What a high price to pay for sulking over an insult," he had sighed. "Poor Achilles, how guilty he must have felt for letting him go in his place… I know he chose his fate, but he didn't chose that one for his dearest friend! The gods seem to keep one hand permanently hidden behind their backs!"

_What a high price to pay…_

"I can't tell him." Alexander stepped from the water and let Bagoas dry him and begin to rub scented lotion into his body. The boy had such delicate, supple hands; normally Alexander took great pleasure in moments such as this, even if it did not lead to lovemaking, but now he could not relax. "He depends on me too much. If I force this on him, how will I know…"

"But if you do not tell him…"

"I'll still have you…" Alexander turned to Bagoas, looked down into his large black eyes. For a second he saw hope there, then Bagoas looked away.

"Will you be sleeping in Hephaestion's room again tonight, My Lord?"

Alexander reached out and stroked Bagoas' long, thick hair. It was time Hephaestion learned to sleep alone – it was time they both did, all over again. Perhaps Hephaestion was quite happy to, but too polite to tell Alexander, though he still seemed troubled by bad dreams he insisted he couldn't remember when he woke. Certainly Alexander never sensed anything like passion in him; they lay side by side or loosely entwined, more like an old familiar married couple than the passionate lovers they had once been. But then since Mieza they had never had the luxury of sleeping together night after night; a night together not spent making love had always been a night wasted, especially to Hephaestion. The first nights after Hephaestion's recovery, holding his beloved close had been all that mattered to Alexander, thoughts of sex had seemed almost obscene. But as time progressed, he was waking in the night, aching with desire – not just lust, he could easily have slipped away to his wives or Bagoas if that was all – but a terrible loneliness. It was _Hephaestion's _touch he wanted, Hephaestion's body he wanted to caress, Hephaestion's desire he wanted to feel. _Just for tonight… _ he wanted to answer, _just for one more night…_

"Not tonight, Bagoas… it is time things returned to normal," Alexander said, a great sense of flatness descending over him.

"As to… returning to normal, My King…" Bagoas began, keeping his eyes averted. Alexander knew the use of the title was deliberate. He encouraged the eunuch to speak honestly, knowing how sensitive he was to the mood of the court. "There… is increasing uncertainty."

"Tell me."

Bagoas frowned, knowing Alexander's temper well enough to choose his words with care. "Much of your time is taken up with Hephaestion, as of course is your right, but…"

"Am I being accused of neglecting my duties?" It was nothing he hadn't expected; Ptolemy and the others had been hinting at it for weeks, not always with much subtlety. Much of the day to day military matters had fallen onto Perdiccas, with Peucestas taking on many of Hephaestion's duties regarding Persian affairs. The army had returned shattered and demoralised from India but that was beginning to feel like a distant and troublesome dream, even to Alexander himself. He had to focus on what mattered. There was talk of an Arabian campaign, even one further into Europe. There were matters back in Macedon to be taken care of. Before Hephaestion's death Alexander had already had a sense of loss, of things unravelling for lack of care, but he had put this down to the long desert march, the mass marriages, even the treachery of his childhood friend Harpalos. A period of rest and everything would be as it was.

He had to focus. If he focused, he could push away those nagging doubts that he really no longer… Discipline, that was the key; all his suffering under that sadistic old bastard Leonidas had not been for nothing. He would control his wants and needs as he always had. He would not even visit Hephaestion again tonight. One of the pages could sit up with him. Not Hylas though. Not through the night. Alexander glanced at Bagoas, who was picking up stray clothes and turning down the bed with as much grace as if he was performing a dance. _The dark one with the lovely eyes…_ Not him, either. "Thank you, Bagoas… could you send one of my own pages to sit with Hephaestion tonight? Then get yourself to bed too, I won't need you again tonight."

Bagoas bowed slightly and left. _No_, Alexander thought, _I won't need you. I won't need anyone. Discipline, that is what I need._

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**THE IVORY EROS - CHAPTER 4**

**SUMMARY:** Hephaestion is adapting to his new "life" but one particular question bothers him - exactly what was he to Alexander before? Meanwhile Alexander is finding it harder and harder to manage without him…

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **I've said it before and will probably keep saying it until the story is finished - THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all of you for your speedy, thoughtful and sensitive reviews, this is one of my favourite stories (if you can have favourites of things you wrote yourself!) and I'm so glad you're all enjoying it too. A particular thank you to CoralDawn, Queendel and Koalared for such in depth reviews, you've found hidden depths to this story I'd almost forgotten were there!

P.S. I'll try to finish this before Christmas, I wouldn't want anyone kept in suspense!

Hephaestion lay comfortably between sleep and waking, letting his mind drift. He enjoyed being able to do this now he was not afraid to let his mind wander and find it wandering into a blank void. He had filled it with new facts, faces, names and ideas which gave him plenty to think about.

It had been a week since Alexander had returned to his own room. Hephaestion had been more upset than he considered he had any right to be, but had said nothing to Alexander. Until he really understood the nature of this sweet, golden person's affection for him, it was best to say nothing. Already he had learned enough to know that not aspects of Alexander were as attractive as the ones he showed Hephaestion, but presumably he had known that before and accepted him as he was. Or perhaps he had not cared. Or, perhaps… Hephaestion had been far worse than Alexander at his most excessive.

Well, if that was so, he had paid for it now. Five months had passed since his illness, the details about which even Alexander remained vague, he had recovered very little of his strength. He could walk unassisted, but only for short distances. He grew tired very easily. And as for his memory…

In moments like this, when he let himself explore the damage, he caught small but brilliant flashes of memories he was sure he had not created simply from what he had recently been told. For a second he could feel a sword or a lance in his hand as natural to him as his own fingers, could imagine himself on horseback and knew exactly how to control his mount using the muscles of his hips, backside and thighs. He caught brief glimpses of two girls, one dark like him, one with chestnut curls, one gentle, one as sharp-clawed as a cat. A man who seemed like a big, dark giant – his father? Once, waking suddenly in the night, he had described to Alexander a dream of huge, grey, trumpeting monsters crashing through thick forest towards him. Alexander had been overjoyed by this nightmare. "You remember the elephants!" He had even awoken crying out in pain and clutching his arm, certain to find it soaked in blood. Alexander had told him of how he had been wounded there.

There were odd flickers about Alexander too. But Hephaestion was mistrustful of them. Having now been through all the correspondence he, his Pages and his secretaries could find, he had read plenty of letters from the King but they were universally dry, businesslike and very, very dull. Perhaps Alexander simply wasn't very good at writing letters. Or perhaps he found writing to Hephaestion a bore. Surely if Alexander had written anything more loving, even anything less _impersonal_ Hephaestion would have kept the letters safe? There was nothing in all his papers to suggest Alexander thought of him as more than a good and loyal friend…

"You can go and get something to eat now…" the boyish voice of one of Alexander's pages drifted into Hephaestion's thoughts, but he lay still, for once not wanting company.

"I wonder how long he'll want to keep this up!" This was Admetus.

"Who's complaining? Its better than guard duty. I'm rather enjoying it actually. He doesn't even seem to mind if you fall asleep, so long as there's someone here when he wakes… Still, I wonder why the King suddenly decided to go back to his own room – I mean, if people are going to gossip, which they are, they'd have started the first time he stayed here! Which they did!"

"The King doesn't care about gossip! I think he just wanted to be alone with that Bagoas! Ugh! I don't know what he sees in him!"

"He's not that bad, you get used to him. And you have to admit he's very beautiful! And talented… they _train _them in it, you know! _Sex_, I mean. Think of it! I bet he knows a thing or two! Well, after all, King Darius didn't keep him around to do the accounts, did he?"

"Well I think he's vulgar. They all are, those barbarians! They dress in those horrible trouser things – it's not natural! It's a wonder they're not all impotent! And they curl their hair and paint their faces like hetaerae and stink of perfume! Fancy preferring one of them to _him!"_

"What's the matter – don't tell me _you're_ smitten too! What _did _he do to you all on campaign?By Apollo, leave the mooning and drooling to poor little Hylas! Anyway, Bagoas is just the right age for Alexander – Hephaestion's too old!"

"You're the one who's smitten – with that horrible little eunuch!"

"Keep your voice down, stupid, you'll wake him!"

Hephaestion turned over onto his side and the voices hushed.

Some hours later he was awoken by Alexander, who sent the page awa_y_ before sitting down companionably on the bed. "Finally a moment of peace," he sighed, ruffling Hephaestion's dark curls, "I never thought I'd be so bored in a staff meeting, but given the choice between listening to my generals and spending the afternoon with you… come on, we'll have a long walk in the garden, that put real colour into your cheeks yesterday!"

"Alexander…" Hephaestion began, then trailed off. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to feel Alexander's arms around him; he knew all he had to do was ask, yet things were just not as simple as they had been when he had first… come back. Since then he had had plenty of time to watch Alexander with his officers and staff. He had a naturally demonstrative, emotional nature, everything that affected his soldiers, be it wounds, debts or even mutiny, he seemed to take personally. From what Hephaestion's own soldiers told him, Alexander seemed to see the army as an extension of himself and did not understand when it did not share his dreams or do exactly what he expected of it. Nursing his sick officers was just one of his peculiar traits. Obviously, Hephaestion and Alexander had been close. But how close? As close as Hephaestion gradually found himself wanting to be to… he laughed ironically at his own fancy… to his sweet golden friend? Alexander had said he was a special case. Had kissed him and called him "my love." Would he have said that to someone who was only a valued friend?

He could ask Alexander, here and now. But suppose he had had confessed his feelings already and been rejected? Would he end up driving Alexander away?

"There you go again," Alexander sighed, "off in that world of yours…"

"I'm sorry!" Hephaestion blinked. He had lost himself right in the act of shedding his dressing gown. Hardly the fine tuned concentration of a cavalry commander!

"For what? It's enough to have you here in body, at least in moments like this. Do you want help dressing?"

"No, I'll manage… Alexander, I think I should ask you – "

A knock on the door disturbed him. Bagoas entered, bowed politely to both of them. Hephaestion was displeased by his own vexation at seeing the eunuch and made himself smile cheerfully. "My King," Bagoas said to Alexander, "General Ptolemy asks to see you urgently… some dispatches from Bactria…"

"_Can't it wait - ?_ No, you wouldn't be here if it could… I'm sorry, my friend," Alexander said, squeezing Hephaestion's arm, "duty calls – yet again. Is there anything you'd like before I go?"

_I'd like you to kiss me._ The thought seemed to come from nowhere; Hephaestion was startled by the strength of it, even more so when Alexander turned to look at him as if he had actually heard. For a few seconds they regarded each other doubtfully, then, quickly, sharply, Alexander leaned closer. Hephaestion had barely felt the touch of Alexander's lips upon his own before the other man was on his way to the door, calling back, "Bagoas can help you dress… I'll be back when I can…"

Then Alexander was gone, leaving Hephaestion and Bagoas alone together.

"Bagoas… may I ask you something impertinent?"

The Persian lifted his eyes slowly from the scroll in his lap, reluctantly meeting Hephaestion's gaze. "Of course, My Lord. I am at your command."

Hephaestion frowned. Bagoas watched him and tried to understand him. He had not always cared for the "old" Hephaestion, but at least he knew his own position with him. With this "new" one things were not quite so clear. _Old Hephaestion, New Hephaestion._ _Now even I'm doing it_, Bagoas thought dryly, _even Alexander's doing it, though he tries not to. None of us know how to treat him. None of us are even sure just how bad his memory is…_

"Bagoas… are you and Alexander… lovers?"

Bagoas hesitated. Then he held his head back proudly. "I am… Alexander's, yes, My Lord."

"Please just call me Hephaestion, its less confusing. You called me that… when I woke up, and I've heard you call Alexander just Alexander too…"

Bagoas twitched very slightly. He was still shy of being too familiar with the King in front of Macedonians and actively avoided it in front of his fellow Persians in spite of Alexander's insistence it was all right; he would have to be more careful.

"Hephaestion," he said with a small smile.

"Alexander's lucky to have you," Hephaestion said quietly, fiddling absently with the bed sheets, "you're very beautiful."

"Thank you… Hephaestion."

"I'm sorry for asking… only the Pages gossip so… I hope they don't bully you, some of them seem to be quite spiteful."

"No longer, Hephaestion," Bagoas answered carefully, not a little confused by the question. "I have grown used to their ways… and they to mine."

"I hope… the same was true for us?"

Bagoas could not help looking away. _Not quite, Hephaestion,_ he wanted to say, _until you fell sick I'd grown content with being ignored by you. Oh yes, at the beginning I longed to provoke your jealousy, to be acknowledged as your rival for my Lord's affections, but all I got from you was polite indifference. You saw me only as one of Alexander's amusements, not worthy of your contempt. Even when I went out of my way to cross you I was rewarded only with a sort of cheerful forbearance such as one might give a difficult and rather stupid child… _

Roxana, ironically perhaps, had changed how Bagoas felt; when not even she, Alexander's wife, could break the hold Hephaestion had on Alexander's heart and mind, Bagoas had had to acknowledge that the man simply had no rivals. And with that had come a strange peace, for at least Hephaestion had never tried make his life hard, let alone rid himself of Bagoas all together, and seemed quite happy to let him keep his small but precious portion of Alexander's heart, whether it had been allotted to him by the One God or by that irksome arrow wielding brat the Greeks believed in.

Now, here, was this new and disturbing complication. For this _new_ Hephaestion really seemed to want Bagoas to like him! And if Bagoas wasn't on his guard, the Macedonian just might get his wish!

_Yes, I am Alexander's_, he suddenly wanted to say, _but not as much as you are._

He didn't say it, and was not quite sure why. Did he seriously believe he could keep the lovers apart forever? Did he even want to? Two days he had watched Alexander mourn, the most frightening two days of his life. Only two days, certainly. Perhaps the King would have gotten over Hephaestion, given time. Perhaps… Bagoas could allow himself such thoughts now that they were impossible… he might have grown more dependent on Bagoas himself, let him move into the large vacant space Hephaestion had left behind in his heart, let him stretch himself out in there and reveal the true quality and depth of his love, like the bare braches of a tree bursting into blossom when the spring came. Or perhaps, as in Bagoas' nightmares the first night he had seen Alexander's wild, wrenching, devastating grief, the King would have simply gone mad.

"You… were always courteous to me, Hephaestion," he said at last.

"I don't think I like the sound of that! Bagoas – "

"Shall I continue reading to you?"

Hephaestion backed down. "No… my mind was wandering, I was losing myself in the rhythm of your voice. It's a beautiful language! Here, come and sit beside me so we can read it together, you can test me on my letters. How strange memory is…" he added as Bagoas rose and seated himself gracefully on Hephaestion's bed, "when my wife walked into the room and spoke to me, I simply responded… I didn't even notice until later that we weren't speaking Macedonian or Greek…"

They both looked up as a knock resounded, and Hylas entered. He gave Bagoas an odd look before addressing Hephaestion. "I'm to sit with you, sir – Alexander has sent for Bagoas."

So they were lovers. Was it even any of his business? Hephaestion allowed Hylas to fuss about him a little, feeling guilty at overhearing what the boys had been saying about him behind his back. Suddenly he took hold of Hylas' wrist and sat him down beside him, forcing him to look him in the eye. "Can I trust you?"

"I hope so sir!" Hylas cried a bit too brightly; Hephaestion had obviously startled him.

"I've heard rumours… gossip. Hylas, are we… have we ever been… lovers?"

Hylas blushed violently. "No, sir," he mumbled and then added more eagerly, "you used to let me sleep in your bed sometimes, when we were on campaign... but that was all!"

Hephaestion gave the page a look of gentle scorn. "You're telling me I let a pretty thing like you share my bed and kept my hands to myself? All night? Every night?"

"Well…" Hylas began to chew nervously at his own lip. "It was me, really. My idea, I mean. To sleep with you. I… used to make up all sorts of silly excuses…say I was afraid of the dark or the wolves howling… or even the older boys!" When Hephaestion could not resist chuckling, Hylas dissolved into giggles. "I suppose you must have thought I was very silly!"

"It didn't stop me playing along! Are you being honest with me? I really never touched you?"

"You… used to cuddle me. Stroke my hair… sometimes you'd… kiss me… but not like _that_, you know… the other boys used to tease me about it, they said it was because I look like the King did at my age."

"You do look like him. Not that I can remember him then… although… at any rate, you're very similar. Except for your lovely blue eyes…"

"I thought perhaps that's why you didn't… do anything else. Because you didn't want to hurt me… use me…"

_I doubt my motives were that honourable,_ Hephaestion thought wryly, _more likely I didn't trust myself… or was afraid Alexander would find out and not like it… _ One thing was becoming clear, his feelings for Alexander were not anything new, nor were they his hidden, guilty secret. Was Alexander himself aware of them? Had he mooned after him like another Hylas? The page was only a child, far away from home, probably missing his own father and pushing through into manhood under circumstances which could not be easy; Hephaestion was a grown man, a veteran. He longed to ask for the truth, yet he feared it too. He reached up and stroked the boy's golden curls, smiled sadly as Hylas threw his arms about his neck and clung to him. He didn't have Alexander's alluring scent; perhaps, up close and in the dark, he had simply ceased to pass for Alexander. If he had ever entertained the thought, Hephaestion hoped he had begged the gods for forgiveness.

Drawing back, he placed a paternal kiss on Hylas's heated brow. "Tell me some more about that horrible desert," Hephaestion said.

Once again he was in that room. It was always the same room; even as he looked around him he was conscious of having stood within it, of witnessing these circumstances many times before. The room was ornate, luxurious, regal. It was full of people, all gathered around that wide bed with its purple draperies, and it smelled of death. Once again he heard the voices.

"They told him not to come to Babylon… they warned him, but he wouldn't listen… after _he_ died, he wouldn't listen to anyone!"

"There's talk of poison. They're saying he's been murdered…!"

"He has. By that Athenian bastard!"

"What? Oh, come on, I know you hated him, but that's ridiculous!"

"Is it? What has it been – nine months? He may be dead and reduced to a pile of ashes, but he isn't at rest… he won't be until he's taken our King from us – and sent us all to Hades! For weeks after he died I felt his hands on my throat…"

"Oh, that I can believe! If it wasn't for that inspired show of grovelling we all thought you were for it!"

"Laugh all you want… but the joke's on us all. Look around you, just look at them. The mighty Companions! Which one of them would you say is "the strongest"? No! I don't know either… but I have a terrible suspicion that they'll all kill each other trying to find out!"

As always, he tried to push through the crowd to get a look at the person lying in the bed, but they would not step aside for him, nor did they even seem to feel him pushing against them. Because he had no place amongst them, did not belong in this time, in this place. Because he was –

"_Alexander!"_ Hephaestion sat up, feeling cold perspiration running down his back as he stared frantically into the darkness. Gradually his breathing steadied and his pounding heart slowed. He had had that dream so many times now, out of _those_ sort of dreams it was the most common. He never discussed _those_ dreams, even with Alexander, because they were so distinctly different from all the others. They were frightening in their clarity, disturbing in the level of awareness they allowed him. Each time they came, even within them he remembered the times before.

Fumbling to light the lamp, he reached for his robe and pulled it on. This was the first night he had slept completely alone, without even a servant or a page to keep watch. Hylas had offered to stay but Hephaestion had refused him and sent away Admetus when he had arrived, giving the younger boy an odd look as he announced he had come to relieve him. It was time he learned to survive without help.

Yet the silence in the room seemed deafening, and he did not think he could stand it. Admetus and Hylas would only be in the anteroom, sleeping or idling away their time, he could send for one of them… but it was more than the idea of sleep which unsettled him. He had to get out of this room. The scent of death lingered within it, as if it had escaped from his dream.

Alexander lay back against the pillows and let his eyes drift shut. He had itched to go to Hephaestion one more time, even just to wish him a peaceful sleep. He had almost determined to do it when Bagoas had unexpectedly appeared in his room and Alexander had demanded to know why he wasn't with Hephaestion.

"Hylas is with Hephaestion, Alexander," Bagoas had answered, "he said you wished to see me…"

"I did no such thing!" Alexander had frowned, then his frown had turned to a grin. "That cheeky little bastard!" he had cried. And then his grin had soured into a scowl. Hylas' puppy-love had been amusing once; Alexander had almost sympathised with him, knowing full well what it was like to be a pubescent boy quite sick with love for tall, dark Hephaestion. But things were so different now. Alexander couldn't be there all the time, keeping his beloved comfortable and amused. As the meeting with Ptolemy had been followed by audiences with various envoys, then inspections of the troops, then a seemingly endless dispute between two of his courtiers about accommodation for their new wives which it seemed only the King was able to settle, Alexander had grown more and more weary. It was not his usual restlessness; it was more akin to boredom. All he had wanted was to return to Hephaestion. Angered by his own childishness, he had punished himself. When a message had come that the new horses he had ordered had arrived, he did not do what he wanted to do – to collect Hephaestion so they could look at them together – but had gone alone.

In the end he had taken a cold bath and gone to bed not with Xenephon or Herodotus or Homer but with some intensely dry dispatches and a complaining letter from Antipater. Leonidas would have been proud of him.

"…Alexander…?"

Alexander's eyes snapped open, his hand shooting under the pillow for his dagger. A tall figure stood in the doorway, blinking in confusion. "Hephaestion…!"

"This is your room…?"

Alexander sat straighter. "You didn't know?"

"I was wandering… I don't know why I came this way…" Hephaestion was gazing around the room with haunted eyes. Then he shook his head and his expression cleared. "But – the guards let me _through!_ _What's the matter with them?_ By – by all the gods, Alexander – your life could have been – "

"Hephaestion," Alexander cut in gently, "they let you through because they knew I'd never refuse you entry."

"But – at this time of night?"

"Even so." Alexander smiled softly across at him, then, after a moment's thought, "you look cold. Would you like to come in with me?"

They gazed into each other's eyes for a long time before Hephaestion looked away shyly. "I think I would. Have I ever… slept here before?"

Ignoring the tightness in his own chest, the ridiculous fluttering of his stomach, Alexander kept his eyes upon Hephaestion's face as he drew back the covers and held out his hand in welcome. "Many times… my love."

Slowly Hephaestion took his hand. "I… like it when you call me that. But I thought… I told myself you were just being kind…"

Alexander could not help releasing a small sigh. "Then you still don't remember anything at all… of us?"

Hephaestion looked up sharply, his eyes suddenly bright. "I wasn't sure – I'm still not sure if its memory or fantasy! I remember… summer sun and wild flowers and cool water… I remember a golden boy… wanting him to love me… and a small room and a warm bed and… a body so hot it felt as though it was gripped by fever… I know I want you… more than anyone else I've seen or spoken to since I… came back… from where I was… I know my heart beats faster when you walk into the room – it really does – and when I first saw your face… oh, Alexander…"

Alexander found himself smiling again. "You told me I was beautiful."

"Did I? I'm sorry, I was so confused…"

"Then you didn't mean it?"

Hephaestion awkwardly fingered the sash of his robe. "I meant it." Tentatively he let go of Alexander's hand, reached out to stroke his face. Alexander fervently kissed the fingers Hephaestion touched to his lips. Without another word, Hephaestion untied the sash and let the robe fall from his body before slipping beneath the layers of silk and fur. Both men caught their breath as their bare bodies connected; their arms locked about one another and for a long time they stayed that way without moving. Finally, shy as a virgin girl, Hephaestion closed his eyes and lifted his head, offering his lips to Alexander. Caressing his face, Alexander leaned forward and kissed him.

"I love you, Hephaestion," he whispered, "my heart has been your slave since we were boys back in Macedon and it has never asked for its freedom. If only I could make you recall just what we've been to each other… we're lovers, we have never stopped being lovers… but we are so much more than that… I call you _philalexandros_… for you're the friend of Alexander, _this_ Alexander, the one who is here in your arms, not the King, nor the Conqueror, nor the General… no wife, no other lover, has belonged only to _this_ Alexander as you do… nor has he given his absolute love to anyone but you…" He watched with tender amusement as Hephaestion searched for a reply, gave a soft chuckle as the other man gave up and simply asked to be kissed again.

Hephaestion could not help the faint tremor in his limbs as Alexander's naked body settled upon his and he slowly let his hands explore it, bemused and beguiled by turns by how its smaller size and almost boyish slenderness contrasted with its hard sinew and startling strength. Even as Alexander kissed and touched, he whispered words of reassurance and love, gentle despite the force of passion Hephaestion could almost feel radiating from him. He felt his own desire, checked and scorned and beaten down these past months, rising eagerly to meet it, yet he too held back, wanting to savour each new sensation. He moaned again and again as Alexander kissed him everywhere, leaving no part of him neglected. He wanted to respond yet again he held back, mesmerised by the intensity Alexander poured into each kiss, into even the lightest caress. When at last Alexander crawled up to seek his lips he could hold back no longer, catching his golden one in his arms and kissing him roughly.

Still Alexander remained patient, taking an obvious delight in reacquainting Hephaestion with each new form of pleasure they could experience together. It might have been as his first time, except that his body responded with seasoned confidence. When at last his King crouched over him, making it quite apparent what he wanted, Hephaestion was startled but not alarmed; when they were ready he let Alexander settle onto him and was both surprised and relieved by how familiar, how _right _it felt to take him.

"Such a deep scar…" Hephaestion leaned close, pressing a kiss to the still livid mark on Alexander's breast where his lung had been pierced, "I'm surprised it didn't kill you! Does it still hurt?"

"Only when I overexert myself," Alexander responded dreamily, running his fingers through Hephaestion's hair, "the physicians told me to rest… there never seemed time… well, now I'm resting. And, though I'd never admit it to them, I feel the better for it. I feel even better for _this_," he added with a playful smile, "Gods, how I've missed you…" Suddenly a shadow passed over him, chilling him and making him draw closer, resting his head upon his lover's chest. "Hephaestion, I'm sorry… I've been wanting to say it since… since you got sick… I know you probably don't remember, but the last time we made love… just before you got sick… you tried to tell me something and I didn't want to hear it. I just want you to know that I understand now…"

"What was I trying to tell you?" Hephaestion asked softly, stroking Alexander's neck.

"You were trying to claim back your Alexander – this Alexander – from the King. I think you were afraid there wasn't much left of him. I didn't understand, I thought you were just jealous, that you resented all the time we spent apart, the fact that more and more of my time was devoted to other things… I thought you were like the other Macedonians, resenting my Persian courtiers… but that wasn't what it was about. You weren't trying to get "Alexander" back for yourself… you were trying to get him back for me! I'd lost myself, my love… it was as if I'd been caught up in my own blaze of glory, been blinded by it and lost my way; since the day we rode out of Macedon I'd hardly given myself or anyone else time to draw breath, let alone reflect… I don't know when I really started to lose myself… maybe after Cleitos… maybe back in Tyre… many people tried to tell me, some lost their lives for it. Even when my own soldiers mutinied I never really came back to myself…"

"Why didn't I try to tell you? Was I afraid of you?"

"I doubt that!"

"Then maybe I didn't care. Maybe I was lost too. From the moment I… came back, I've felt that you and I were linked together in some way… perhaps we got lost together."

"I don't know – all I know is how it was. It wasn't until you… when you left me…"

"When I died." Hephaestion's hand did not pause in its gentle petting. "Did I really have to die to make a point? Tell me, Alexander, which one of us is the most obstinate, me dying to win an argument, or you refusing to give in until I did!"

"Hephaestion, it's not funny."

"Alexander…" Hephaestion gently lifted Alexander's head to look into his eyes. "Its time you told me what happened to me. Perhaps then I'll begin to understand quite a lot of things… and I don't think it can wait much longer."

Alexander moaned softly in protest as Hephaestion drew himself up into a sitting position and pulled Alexander with him, but when he felt Hephaestion's arms close about him, he sighed and nodded. Slowly, aware of how absurd it all sounded, he told his friend everything he could remember, even his conversations with the ivory Eros.

When he was finished, Hephaestion was silent for a long time. Then, quite unexpectedly he asked, "Alexander… out of your officers, which one is from Athens?"

Alexander looked up at him in surprise. "Why… you are, for one. You were born there, you came to Macedon as a small child – I'm sorry, it was stupid of me to forget about that, but… did someone mention it?"

"No… not exactly… it doesn't matter…" Hephaestion murmured, "this isn't the room… I thought for a moment, but they said… _Babylon._ It was in _Babylon."_

"Babylon, you remember that, do you?" Alexander watched him intently, "I've been thinking of going back there, do you want to – "

"No!" Hephaestion's eyes widened in the dim light and his grip tightened. "No, we shouldn't go there! Not yet, anyway… not… for at least four months…"

"Hephaestion, what are you – "

"The Eros… do you think he'll be offended that we didn't make love in his presence?"

The change of subject confused Alexander further; he thought he had grown used to these odd new moods, but this time he was unsettled. "Bring him here tomorrow," he said with something close to desperation, "bring all your things here. I want to sleep with you in my arms every night, I never want to wake without knowing where you are!"

"Alexander!" Hephaestion protested, but the king could see the pleasure his words gave. "Your wives! And – Bagoas…"

"I can still go to my wives… as you can to yours, if you want. As to Bagoas…"

"Do you love him?" Hephaestion's tone remained soft, but he avoided Alexander's eyes, staring resolutely at his shoulder as he traced its curve and the pattern of scars upon it.

Alexander hesitated, momentarily startled by the clarity of his own thoughts. "No. I care for him, but no. For a while I thought I might… and he wasn't the first I felt like that about. When it came to Roxana I was absolutely _sure_ I was in love – it even frightened me, a lot more, I think, than it frightened you! But the feeling didn't last, it never lasts. I wasn't sure before, but now… now I think I've truly loved only three people in my life, really loved, in a way that makes my heart ache… the first two were my mother and father. I loved both of them, but over the years I learned not to completely trust either of them. There's only one person I've loved and trusted completely. You, Hephaestion."

Hephaestion met his gaze at last, his eyes shining with love. They exchanged a tender kiss, but when Alexander tried to deepen it Hephaestion drew back. "He loves you, you know that, don't you?"

Alexander was silent for a long time. He had of course noticed Hephaestion's friendliness to Bagoas, indeed to so many unlikely people since his illness, but it was still hard to reconcile this comment to the Hephaestion who had hardly deigned to acknowledge Bagoas' existence beyond an irritable frown when the eunuch intruded on his time alone with Alexander. "Yes, I know. I won't pretend I didn't like it. I've always needed love… needed people to _love _me as well as respect or fear me. My soldiers, my generals, even the people I've conquered…"

"And they do love you," Hephaestion replied gravely, "so much so it… intimidates me. I'd discovered enough, and remembered enough, to sense that many people resented me, even if until… tonight… I wasn't quite sure why. Now I know, its not just resentment but jealousy. Jealousy of the love you have for me. And now, with you giving me so much of your time…"

"Hephaestion…" Alexander reached up, taking his lover's face in his hands, "my sweet love, I learned a lesson when we were parted… however high the price is, I'd pay it a hundred times over just to have another night like this…"

"But – Alexander – "

"Trust me, my love. Everything will be all right…" Even as Alexander pulled Hephaestion's head down and kissed him with a passion that was almost brutal, he wondered who he was reassuring – Hephaestion or himself.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**THE IVORY EROS - CHAPTER 5**

**SUMMARY:** The path of true love never runs smooth, even second time around. Hephaestion begins to worry whether there is a place for his "new" self in Alexander's world.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Thank you all once again for your quick and in-depth reviews, I do realise I'm updating a bit fast but I'd like to have this all "done and dusted" by Christmas Eve ( I wouldn't want to ruin anyone's Christmas day…) Thank you in particular to Koalred, Queendel, Trust No One (thank you for the reassuance!) and Coral Dawn (glad you like Hylas, I like him too though he'll never get anywhere with Hephaestion - life is hard when you're young and in love!) for reviewing the last chapter - and especially to Parisad for such a lovely meditation on the relationship between Alexander and Hephaestion. If you're the one who wrote "no longer boys" (sorry if you're not!) IT WAS BEAUTIFUL.

Hephaestion wasn't reassured; in the end he was just biding his time. Nine months passed. And the dream stopped. A future was lost forever – good riddance to it. If he had to lose Alexander to save him from that future, so be it.

Lose Alexander…

He could not put the thought aside. It had begun to crystallize in his mind the day he had finally solved the mystery of why he had no personal letters from Alexander. They had been in bed together when he had noticed the beautiful gold box by Alexander's bed. Alexander had reminded him of how, when he "inherited" it from Darius, his officers had debated what should be kept in it. He had eventually put his prized copy of the _Iliad._ Hephaestion had started so violently that Alexander had thought he could actually recall the incident. But Hephaestion had recalled something else. A box. A simple wooden box, the better to detract attention. He had known exactly where to find it – buried at the bottom of his travelling trunk underneath his armour and all the other military items he had not needed or even thought about since his sickness. He couldn't quite remember whether he had been driven by paranoia, discretion or simply a need for privacy even from his own staff, but when he had read some of the letters within he thought it might be all three.

_Dearest Hephaestion_

_You have been gone barely a day and already I cannot rest, cannot relax, know I will not be able to sleep. You know why I send you away, who else can I send, who else can I trust as I trust you? Who else can I rely on to think only of MY interests, to know what I would want, not just what they think is right? But not to have you within reach, even if not in my bed then in a tent or a room close by, what torment this is! Tomorrow morning I will sacrifice to Zeus himself to keep you safe for me…_

_Dearest Hephaestion_

_As I know you are drawing close, how I ache for you! Nobody can give me what you give me, never will I allow another the freedom of my body I have granted you, no-one has ever possessed me as you have, promise me you will not stall on your journey, come quickly to me, I am driven to torment, to very madness by longing for you, don't tease your King, beloved, come as fast as you can…_

_Dearest Hephaestion_

_Forgive a romantic fool for writing to you even as you lie asleep in my bed; I cannot sleep for joy. Tomorrow, my love, tomorrow all will be as I dreamed. I will marry Stateira and you Drypetis…_

_Hephaestion, give me proud, strong nephews, give me nieces with Drypetis' grace and breeding and your beauty; then, in the course of time, my son shall marry one of your daughters and when our first grandson arrives then – at last – a child shall inherit this empire, a child of your blood and mine, and you and I shall at last be united, no longer one the King and one the Subject, we shall be utterly unified… and we shall inherit the world…_

At first he had read the letters with eyes full of tears and a heart full of love, but then he had found one that disturbed him more and more each time he read it.

_My dearest Hephaestion_

_Tell me, my dear beloved, my one true and loyal friend, tell me what they want of me. Haven't I given them everything they want and far more? I have taken them from Macedon, tribesmen, hunters, farmers and made them as wealthy and powerful as princes; with me they have shared glory and excitement, they have seen things no other Macedonian or Greek has even dreamed of seeing… And now they say this isn't enough! They don't want more gold, they say, they don't want more conquest, they don't want to see what lies beyond the next hill – they just want to go home! They say they miss their families! Their families who now live in luxury and prestige – thanks to me! Have I seen my mother or my sisters since I left Macedon? Haven't I shared everything I have with these ungrateful curs? Haven't I shared their suffering, marching with them, fighting amongst them, taking the same wounds, starving, thirsting, facing death…_

_To Tartarus with the lot of them! All I've done is make them into fat, lazy, venal cowards! None of them have proved loyal, from the pages to the common soldiers to my own Companions! Well, I'll make them governors and satraps if that's all they want, I'll replace the whole damned army with Persians and Indians or a pull a whole new army from Maecdon, fresh blood, untainted by the complacency of the generation before them!_

_You and I my dearest love, you and I will fight on regardless! Even if all else fails, we will give up everything, leave them all behind, recruit an army as we travel… or forget an army altogether, just you and I, exploring forever until we reach the very edge of the world…_

_Don't fail me, my darling, without you I cannot hold on! Forgive me, I know you won't, nobody has ever understood me as you have! Just you and I, Hephaestion, Achilles and Patroklos, fighting on, no matter what…_

Perhaps when he had first read it the letter had stimulated him, filled him with new life and new dreams; now it worried and frightened him. Such ferocious, desperate energy, such restless, untameable hunger! Yes, it was still exciting, it was even arousing, but it was also quite exhausting.

Since the day he had read it, he found he was haunted by returning images of a boy so mercurial, so untiring, that Hephaestion had had to imprison him between his thighs and stop his mouth with kisses just to keep him silent and still and give them both some peace. Lovemaking had brought peace, temporarily, he remembered that much. But they weren't boys anymore and he couldn't permanently subdue that raging spirit with sex. Alexander was still riding on the tide of euphoria at having Hephaestion returned to him. For a long time it had carried Hephaestion along too. But no longer. He had been thrown up on the shore, and sooner or later Alexander would be thrust there beside him. Then the excuses would begin, the apologies and absences. Alexander would regain his old vitality and pace and he would leave Hephaestion behind.

He couldn't sit and wait for it to happen. He had that much pride left, at least.

He had thought the briefing would never end. At least such meetings went quicker now he no longer had the urge to interrupt quite so often. He sensed a restlessness, a discomfort among the Companions, but he could not bring himself to think about it. All he wanted was to get back to Hephaestion, who was still suffering with bad cramps in his legs and back and had been thoroughly exhausted after Alexander had taken him riding the morning before. Hephaestion seemed dissatisfied with his own lack of progress over the last ten months and Alexander was beginning to sense he was not the only one. Only Alexander himself didn't feel either impatient or restive; he was beginning to feel he would be quite content to spend night and day nursing his lover. The very idea was so alien it deserved careful examination, but he was not in the mood to think about that either.

"Joy to you, my love," he grinned as he found Hephaestion sitting in bed reading. "What are you reading now?"

"Homer," Hephaestion replied softly, staring down at the scroll before him.

"Perfect!" Alexander began to shed his clothes. "Come, let me get in with you, we can take a bath later, but for now all I want is to rest my head in your divine lap and hear you read from the _Iliad _ to me in your best Greek accent…"

"It's the _Odyssey_," Hephaestion replied, raising his head briefly to accept Alexander's greeting kiss. He had a deep, pensive look in his eyes, one he had often had since his illness.

"Oh." Alexander frowned slightly. "Well, for a change…"

"It's a very different book," Hephaestion added, laying the scroll aside as Alexander slipped into the bed, "it's not at all about the death and glory Achilles worshipped. It's more about homesickness. All Odysseus wants to do is go home. He doesn't want riches, glory, beautiful women, even immortality, all he wants is to go home to see his wife, son and parents again. It's made me think… Perhaps I need to go home too." He hesitated, avoiding Alexander's gaze as he fumbled beneath the bedclothes and drew out a letter. "This came for me. It's from my father."

"Then you wrote to him at last?" Alexander felt a small rush of relief. So that was all this was about. Hephaestion had been putting off writing to his family for months and forbidden Alexander to do it. Only more and more distinctive recollections of them had made him reconsider. "My love, I'm so glad… how did they take the news?"

"It's a letter any son would think himself blessed to receive," Hephaestion answered with a wistful smile, "they promise it changes nothing… and beg me to come home. They tell me," he added with a suggestive roll of the eyes, "that one of my youngest female cousins is now of marital age. But they also say I can bring Drypetis with me if I… think it appropriate. Oh, and they send their deepest respects to you. Actually my mother sends you her love, though my father wasn't sure I should mention that."

Alexander chuckled softly, leaning back against Hephaestion. "Tell her the feeling is returned – respectfully."

"Perhaps I should tell her in person. They're growing old, after all, and I have nephews and nieces I've never seen…"

"Well, why not, after all!" Alexander agreed cheerfully, "a holiday will do you good. The gods know I don't want to part from you for a moment, but a few months away, when you're feeling stronger…"

"Alexander…" Hephaestion's arms tightened around him, in comfort, or perhaps in restraint. "I don't think I'll ever be strong enough to serve you the way I did. I'm still physically so weak, I still get confused and can't concentrate, my reflexes are too slow… I'd never survive on the front line of a campaign and you know it."

"But your memory – that's getting better – "

"Slowly, yes, but _too_ slowly! How long can we wait? Think of the Arabian campaign!"

"That can wait…" Alexander was stunned by how easy it was to dismiss all of his plans, how little they mattered.

"For how long, Alexander? Your generals are restless, your soldiers are getting fat and lazy – "

"Soon, soon, just another month or two."

"I won't be ready in a month or two. You'd have to go without me. If it's a choice between being without you here and being without you in Macedon – "

"_No!"_ Alexander choked down the rising swell of panic within himself. Once such words would have roused his fury, might even have seemed treacherous. Now all he felt was a widening gulf of despair. "I won't go on campaign without you! So you can't lead the cavalry! You were the one who best knew how to organise the siege engines, the bridges, the logistics… and your diplomatic skills, if you could only remember the times you brought supplies to the army when we…"

"Alexander, I was never just your engineer, or your logistics officer, I was one of your Companions, your Chilliarch – think about it, if you were to fall in battle, I'd be next in line to take control! But I couldn't – you know I couldn't! Even if I wanted to the army would never accept me!"

"No, Hephaestion, I won't accept that!" Alexander pulled free, turning to face him. "There's not a man in this army who doesn't wish you anything but good health and a swift recovery! See how many visitors you have! Or perhaps you think I've ordered them to come to you!"

"I'm deeply grateful for the love and kindness I've been shown," Hephaestion answered gently, lowering his eyes, "but people grow impatient and bored with an invalid who makes no progress. They have their own affairs to deal with, affairs I have less and less to do with. They have their own lives to live, their own interests to forward. Even pretty little Hylas is well on his way to becoming a young man – before you know it he'll fall in love with someone else, he might even want to marry… Even you, Alexander… when the Arabian campaign finally begins… suppose I do go with the army, handle the siege machinery, take care of supplies and troop numbers… how often would we see each other?"

"But Hephaestion," Alexander forced a laugh, "we saw so little of each other before…"

"Maybe I didn't care then. But I do now. Maybe I thrived on what little love you had time to give me, maybe I didn't need much love then. But I need it now. I need to be loved, to know I'm not alone. Can you understand that?"

Tears stung Alexander's eyes as he met Hephaestion's. "Of course I can... but – that's not difficult, we'll see each other every night! You'll share my tent! Just like you share my room now! If I wasn't so driven, so obsessed by what was right or wrong, by doing without what I wanted, we'd never have slept apart all these years… like Achilles and Patroklos, we…"

"Alexander…" Hephaestion reached out to clasp his hand. "I'm your Chilliarch, not your mistress. I can't sit around with the camp followers, curling my hair and looking pretty, waiting for your return!"

"Now you're being absurd!"

"_Am I?_ Look about you, Alexander! Already people have begun to resent me – I'm a nuisance and a burden! In a military camp I'd be a laughing stock!"

Alexander drew back, hardening himself against Hephaestion and against the pain growing inside himself. "It sounds as though you've made up your mind!"

"Surely you can see I'm right?"

"I – " Alexander couldn't quite answer that. Once, though it broke his heart, he knew he would have agreed. Had Hephaestion been badly wounded during the Persian campaigns, would he have stopped everything to wait until he was better? No, he would have left him behind somewhere, told him to rejoin the army when he could. Nothing would have stopped him back then. Now? He was no longer sure. Waking up beside Hephaestion had once been a luxury, a treat. Now it felt almost a necessity. _Am I just getting old?_ he wondered, shaking his head, _old and silly and sentimental? At thirty-three?_ "No, I can't see you're right," he said at last, and though it was the truth, it sounded like wilfulness, both to Hephaestion and to himself. "I can't believe this, Hephaestion – I can't believe you want to leave me!"

Hephaestion touched his cheek, leaning forward to kiss him, but Alexander turned his head away. "Please, beloved," his friend whispered, "please don't be angry. Don't ruin the time we have left…"

Alexander threw back the bedclothes and rose with a hard, bitter laugh. "A high price to pay, indeed! The gods have a wry sense of humour! The price to pay to have you back is to lose you all over again! And _you –_ you won't even put up a fight!"

"You don't understand," Hephaestion breathed, turning away as Alexander rounded angrily upon him.

"_What else is there to understand?"_

"When I awoke…" his lover's voice trembled. "When I came back, I was more afraid than – well, I _hope_ than I've ever been in my entire life. But then you were there, holding me in your arms, like a bright light illuminating the darkness, and I thought that as long as I had you I would survive this. That night I came to you and you told me we were lovers I thought I could never have been this happy before, memory or no memory. Don't you see that it's for that reason, as much as anything we might have been to each other before, that I have to leave you now? Don't you see what it would do to me, to catch one resentful glance from you, to have you push me away, to hear you say you had no time for me? If separation is the price I have to pay, better that than have you grow tired of me! Perhaps, after all, we should obey the will of the gods?"

"The will of the gods!" Alexander sneered, pouring himself a cup of wine and gulping it down. "What utter crap! You don't care, that's what this is about! Life's too complicated for you here and you want to get out! Yes, that's what this is about! I always suspected you didn't need me as much as I needed you, the way you tolerated the likes of Bagoas and the others while if I'd thought you'd bedded Hylas, if I'd thought you could have shown any other the same passion you'd shown me, I – I – "

"Alexander…!" Hephaestion slipped out of the bed and tried to gather Alexander to him, but the King pushed him away. Faint colour rose in Hephaestion's cheeks; for the first time since his illness, Alexander saw a flash of that old temper, of that old, easily injured pride. He stepped back. "Perhaps I should sleep in my own room tonight."

"No." Alexander drained his cup and put it down, reaching to pick up his clothes. "I'll go to Roxana tonight, I've been neglecting her far too much…"

He dressed and left quickly, so that he couldn't see the indignation turning to sadness in Hephaestion's eyes.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**THE IVORY EROS - CHAPTER 6**

**SUMMARY:** It looks as though Alexander is due to lose Hephaestion all over again and he's tormented by loneliness (not to mention a bit of jealousy) but he's about to find that the decision is no longer his. If losing Hephaestion isn't the true price, then what is? Perhaps one of his favourite authors has the answer…

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Thank you all over again for your wonderful reviews! Thank you to Parisad, Koalared, CoralDawn and Joyeeeee (I absolutely love long reviews, I also find them deeply flattering!) It means so much that you're all enjoying this! And to Baliansword - I don't much like Bagoas either; I hated "The Persian Boy" (sorry to all Renault fans but I had my reasons, Bagoas V. Hephaestion was only one) and the real person seemed to be a very shifty character, but he came across more sympathetically than I planned in this! Rest assured, he never triumphs over Hephaestion ( or gets much action from Alexander) in any of my stories! Basically, the poor lad is just a plot device!

P.S. glad Hylas isn't annoying anyone, you have to be careful with "new" characters!

"What's wrong?"

Perdiccas looked up briefly, then let his gaze fall back to the fountain as he trailed his hand through the sparkling water. "Nothing."

Ptolemy stepped closer, gazing down at him with a mixture of perplexity and amusement. "For a man who's just inherited command of the Companion Cavalry and to all intents just about every other honour once given to Hephaestion, you don't seem very happy."

"I'm not in the mood for sarcasm, Ptolemy," Perdiccas grunted, "so either go away or stop it."

"I'm not laughing at you, Perdiccas," Ptolemy replied, "I'll leave that to some of the others who didn't profit as well as we did from the restructuring. "And if it's any help, I feel just as embarrassed as you do. If Hephaestion had died, perhaps it would have been easier for all of us. Except perhaps Alexander himself, though even that's debateable. The dead can't look at you, can't smile at you… can't insist they're quite content as you strip them of all the honours they fought for. Instead, we could praise Hephaestion's memory, remember his courage and his loyalty… and not feel ashamed to admit sometimes he could be a possessive and argumentative bastard who stood directly in the light Alexander cast and forced the rest of us to stand skulking in his shadow. His, not Alexander's, which made it so much worse! None of us got as close to Alexander as we wanted to, not after Hephaestion staked his claim."

"And you really think that will change now?" Perdiccas demanded, shaking his head dolefully, "since he… got sick, died, _Zeus!_ Whatever happened! Alexander's more attached to him than ever! Moving him into his room! Oh, I know it was hardly a secret when they'd sleep together on campaign, once we realised they were still at it long after Alexander became King it seemed almost natural, but now…? Even that little Bagoas is trailing around with his tail between his legs like a stray puppy – if Alexander hadn't assigned him to Peucestas' staff he would have pined away! The gods alone know what his wives think!"

"Well he's not sharing Alexander's room anymore; surely that's a good sign? And he'll be gone soon. Within a month, from what he's been saying. I'll miss him," Ptolemy said thoughtfully, "I'll miss him in a totally new way. I don't think any of us know quite what to make of him now, but I won't be pleased to see him go. Still, once the Arabian campaign is underway – "

"If it ever starts…" Perdiccas looked up at last, shaking the water from his fingers and eyeing Ptolemy shrewdly. "You really haven't noticed yet? Surely I can't be the only one."

Ptolemy squinted uncomfortably. "Noticed what?"

"Alexander! Come on, I know you've seen it too. Didn't you watch him in the meeting today?"

"He seemed quite calm."

"Exactly! He sat still all the way through it, he never once moved, he didn't fidget, he didn't interrupt, he didn't start any rows – he didn't even end it with one of his rallying speeches! He was listening, certainly, but he was… _bored._"

"Perdiccas – "

"He was _bored. _He doesn't care about this campaign, but that's not all this is about. It's Alexander himself. That flickering quality he had about him, that restless energy, the way he could never keep still, never even look at one thing for more than a few seconds… its gone. The fire's gone out. I saw the pair of them the other day, you know… holding hands and pottering around the gardens like… like my grandparents used to do back in Macedon! I could understand it in Hephaestion, he's still convalescing, but Alexander? It's as if whatever happened to Hephaestion happened to Alexander too. I just don't think he realises it yet."

"What are you saying, Perdiccas?" Ptolemy scowled sceptically. "That he's… found some sort of inner peace? That his demons don't plague him anymore? He had them; we all know he had them, long before Philip's assassination."

"Demons… inner peace…" Perdiccas shook his head. "You're beginning to sound like that Indian philosopher fellow Calanus! What would he say if he were here? That Alexander had moved onto a level where he no longer needed his fire?"

"Everything will be all right once Hephaestion goes and the campaign begins," Ptolemy firmly declared. Perdiccas' oddness was beginning to make his head ache. First Hephaestion, then Alexander, now Perdiccas. Perhaps it was in the water…

He was being cruel and he knew it but he couldn't help himself. He could not look at Hephaestion without wanting to scream and stamp his foot and wave his fists like a child in a tantrum, denied what he wanted. He couldn't look at him and smile and wish him well. He wanted him. He had to keep him. Hephaestion had not even left yet and already Alexander's felt as though his heart was being torn out. When he thought of Hephaestion's absence his body throbbed and ached as if it was being ripped in half. That sense of dismemberment persisted day after day, surfacing vividly in his dreams. It was as if Hephaestion was physically tearing himself from Alexander's flesh. Ridiculous, yet time and again, between waking and sleeping, he could feel the lips of the ivory Eros upon his own, could feel the energy being drawn from himself… could feel, quite tangibly, that strange rush of warmth as the gilt-haired creature breathed life back into his beloved. Had he really used some of Alexander's living energy to draw Hephaestion's shade back into his body? Fanciful nonsense, Aristotle would probably have said, yet Alexander believed fervently in the gods, was this any harder to believe? And if it was so, what was happening now? Were he and Hephaestion somehow linked in a way they never could have been before? And if _that_ was so, what would happen once Hephaestion went home?

It was too much; he had no answers, logical or theological. He tried to concentrate on state matters; he tried to think of the new campaign, but could find neither meaning nor blind comfort in any of it.

As he let Bagoas undress him that night, Alexander cast a resentful glare at the ivory Eros who gazed dreamily back. Hephaestion had left it behind, insisting Alexander should keep it. To Hades with it. He would give it to Hephaestion the day he left; he never wanted to see it again!

He had not gone to Roxana the night he had left Hephaestion; nor had he gone to Bagoas or any willing youth or palace courtesan - instead he went to Stateira, the only lover he had ever taken purely as a matter of policy. Initially it was perhaps because he knew so little of her and she, more to the point, knew very little of him. He had never lost his head over her, even temporarily, never made stupid declarations of devotion in the heat of passion. But after that first night it became more than that. For such a young woman she seemed wise beyond her years.

On a few nights they made love; in this Stateira conducted herself as she did in all things, with the quiet, gracious dignity of a princess. Alexander was deeply grateful for it; he did not think he could have borne anything more demanding without thinking of Hephaestion and losing the will to perform. Most of the time, however, they lay together and talked, the shadows of the night allowing them a rare chance for both intimacy and honesty.

"My father was a great man," she had whispered, her dark eyes glittering in the dusky light, "clever, charming, dedicated and loving to his family. But he was not a man of blood and war, like his namesake the Great Darius or Xerxes… perhaps, after all, he should have stayed as he was, Satrap of the Uratians and not have been tempted to higher things by the schemes of others… so my mother believed, and so I believe too."

"Do you hate us?" It was a question Alexander knew he would never have thought of asking before Hephaestion's death. "Do you hate… me?"

Stateira smiled enigmatically and stroked his hair. "I accept the will of the Great God Ahura-Mazda, my husband, just as you accept the will of your gods."

"And Drypetis?" The question escaped him before he could stop it.

"Drypetis loves," came the soft reply, "she was a child when we joined our father on campaign against the invaders; she has known little certainty in her life. So she has put her faith in love." There was no reproach in her voice, though somewhere inside both sisters must surely think it Alexander's fault that Hephaestion was about to leave. He could make arrangements for Drypetis to go with him, or at least ask her what she wanted - but he didn't even know what Hephaestion wanted, because he hadn't been near him.

Still, Stateira's love had been a desperately needed comfort when, as each day passed without Hephaestion, it became harder and harder to sleep alone. But then Alexander had seen Hephaestion walking in the private palace gardens with Drypetis, Stateira sitting discreetly nearby. As Alexander watched, unseen, Hephaestion had lifted his wife's veil flirtatiously and kissed her. Then the two had embraced long and deeply, like lovers. And jealousy had choked Alexander, hardening to resentment against both Hephaestion's wife and his own. From that night Alexander had slept alone, no matter how miserable it made him.

"How can I help you, Alexander?" Bagoas asked gently, breaking into Alexander's thoughts and gazing hopefully into his eyes, "I long to ease your unhappiness… let me please you…"

He shouldn't have taken the boy back into his personal service; he had flourished under Peucestas' friendly instruction and excelled in his new duties. Eumenes was not impressed, convinced Alexander intended to replace him with Bagoas as his secretary, but Alexander had not much time for his opinions these days. Yet when Bagoas had come to him, asking to serve him again, he didn't have the heart to refuse. Or was it his heart which had made the decision? Had he really only wanted to trigger some jealousy from Hephaestion? Did he want his lover to think he had already been replaced? He hadn't – at least not yet. But maybe it was time he was.

Slowly Alexander took Bagoas into his arms, kissed his brow, then his cheek. For some reason he could not go so far as to kiss his mouth. The eunuch was pliant in his arms but Alexander felt him tremble. "Sweet Bagoas…" he whispered, "how I've neglected you…"

"I am yours, Alexander… only yours…"

Alexander sighed under his sensual touches, let him rub his shoulders, caress his back and arms, run his fingers through his hair the way he knew Alexander liked. Why was it not the same? In the last few months his appetite for sex had risen dramatically – but only for sex with Hephaestion. Before he had set such little importance upon sex yet he had enjoyed it with Bagoas, Roxana and several others along with Hephaestion. Sometimes on campaign he had returned to his tent, dirty and exhausted, yet Bagoas had managed to soothe him and to awaken his lust. Was this Hephaestion's parting shot – not only to leave him but to leave him impotent to anyone but him?

_The price will be high…_ Did he still not understand? Had he _still_ not paid it?

"I'm sorry, Bagoas…" Alexander drew away, stroking the boy's cheek as he reached for his robe and pulled it on before getting into bed.

Bagoas lowered his large black eyes, pain creasing his delicate brow. "What is it you wish, Alexander? Please tell me so I can grant it!"

_I want Hephaestion!_ The spoilt brat inside him screamed. "There's nothing I want, Bagoas."

"Should I leave you?"

"I – " Alexander hesitated, his eyes alighting on the scroll lying by the bed. Had Hephaestion left it there? He did not remember seeing it there before. "No," he said suddenly, "no… you can read to me. How are your Greek letters?"

"Much improved, Alexander!" The boy brightened just a little.

"Read to me from the _Odyssey…_"

Bagoas read tirelessly into the night. And Alexander listened, though he didn't want to. Something about the story had always unsettled him, Odysseus' voyage to the Underworld most of all. There he had spoken to Achilles… and found him regretting his short and glorious life. Being King of the Elysium Fields seemed worthless compared to being nobody and nothing in the living world. Only his son's glorious exploits had cheered him up. It was not something Alexander much wanted to hear, while ambitious dreams pursued him waking and sleeping. He had never doubted Achilles' choice, even when it cost him his beloved Patroklos.

As Bagoas read these passages, Alexander's head began to ache harder and harder. At last, unable to stand it, he clutched at his temples. _"Enough!"_

"Alexander?" The eunuch glanced worriedly at him.

"Forgive me Bagoas, I'll be fine, but I need to rest. No – leave the lamp on, go ahead to bed. Bagoas – "

Bagoas turned, came forward as Alexander beckoned. Gently the King kissed him. "Thank you."

Frowning slightly, Bagoas left.

Alone, Alexander continued to rub at his head. Achilles had chosen a short and glorious life over a long and unremarkable one. More than once he had threatened to leave the Trojan War behind, to gather up Patroklos and his Myrmidons and go home to Pthia; he could have done it, spent a long, uneventful life in the company of Patroklos, his own father Peleus, his immortal mother and maybe Briseis too, eventually becoming King of Pthia. It was not as if he would have returned home to loneliness and poverty. Only a year ago Alexander could have seen no attractions in such a choice. But then he had not yet had a taste of the agony Achilles suffered when Patroklos was slain.

Achilles had known if he stayed at Troy he was going to die young. He had known – at least he had suspected – that Patroklos would too, hadn't his mother Thetis warned him that while he still lived the best of the Myrmidons would fall? Had he kidded himself it might not be Patroklos? Yet he had sent his gentle friend into battle alone!

_The arrogant bastard!_

But he had paid for it; he admitted to Odysseus that he had paid for it. He had made the wrong choice, despite the comfort Odysseus gave. A glorious son seemed cold comfort to Alexander – he had never shared his mother's dynastic ambitions; what mattered was _here_ and _now._ Odysseus knew better. He had never wanted to go to the war and when it was over all he had wanted was to sail home to the person he loved most. He had lost almost everything but his life on the journey home, even when he had reached home he had to face his wife's suitors and the havoc they wreaked over his kingdom. But he reached home. And was happy. Home…

_Compared to him,_ Alexander thought through the throbbing in his skull, _what do I have to complain of?_

_Home…?_

_No, no, it's too insane! It goes against everything I've ever wanted! I can't, I can't even think about it!_

Yet there it was, it would not leave him alone.

He sprang out of bed, not sure if he was leaving the room just to escape the serenely knowing gaze of the ivory Eros.

"_Alexander...?"_ Hephaestion's astonishment turned very quickly to delight. _"Alexander!"_

"Don't say anything," Alexander gasped as he threw off his robe and pulled Hephaestion from his chair by the bed, undressing him and pushing him down. "Just let me make love to you. Don't stop me, no matter what happens. Not even if I hurt you!"

"You can hurt me…" Hephaestion gave a giddy laugh as Alexander clambered onto him, "_you can do whatever you like…"_

It was a long time before either of them could find the energy to speak.

Finally it was Hephaestion who managed it, raising himself onto one elbow to look down at Alexander, who was lying on his back, eyes open, staring into space. "Did you win?"

Alexander blinked. "What?"

"You looked as if you were fighting a battle. Did you win?"

"I don't know, yet." Suddenly Alexander sat up, kissed Hephaestion with something of his old fiery energy. "You should leave soon, before the weather changes. Give me just a few more weeks to make the arrangements, there are some new complications I need to settle."

Hephaestion frowned, then looked away. "Of course."

"Get some rest, I have things I need to do, I won't sleep tonight." Kissing him again, Alexander leapt up, threw on his robe and left.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**THE IVORY EROS – PART 7**

**SUMMARY: **Alexander finally realises the price he has to pay – now he just has to decide what to do about it and how to deal with those around him once he has…

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Thank you one last time for the warm reception this story has been given. Whether you reviewed it or not (and I've always been shy about reviewing myself, I freely admit it, though I'm trying to fix that…) I do hope you enjoyed it!

**Coral Dawn – **thank you for reviewing so often, the answer is – quite right, you've got it in one! **Joyeeeee –** Thank you! Glad you liked Perdiccas and Ptolemy, Ptolemy is usually portrayed sympathetically, by myself included, but I am rather suspicious of him as I suspect he had a big hand in rewriting history to suit himself (why after all do we know so little about Alexander's right hand Hephaestion?) and Perdiccas comes across as a reasonable person. **Trust No One – **I'm not laughing at your conclusions at all, you're basically thinking just like me, but Alexander will get his priorities right in the end, he just doesn't want to give in to his new destiny (probably because he doesn't know how short the old one was!) **Fredericka - **yes, Hephaestion saw the future as it would have been (i.e. Alexander dying and his generals all killing each other) but since he drank from the river he only remembers fragments in his dreams. He knows the lost future was worthless to him and Alexander but he's afraid to use this to his own advantage. And I'm so glad you liked Lord of The Two Lands – and that I'm not the only one who hated Bagoas in "The Persian boy" (I found it impossible to believe in his relationship with Alexander as it was portrayed and found his constant resentment of Hephaestion very tiring! To be honest I rather felt like giving the to-good-to-be-true Alexander a good slap too…) I've stuck a note at the end of this for you and anyone else interested in Alexander novels!

Once again – HAPPY CHRISTMAS, and I do hope you like the ending; I wouldn't want to ruin anyone's holiday!

True to his word, he didn't sleep that night, though he was exhausted and his head ached. He locked the door of his bedchamber, not wanting anyone to disturb him, not trusting himself to deal kindly with even the most well meant interference from Bagoas or any other of his servants. Then he paced, and as he did so, he thrashed out detail after detail, argument after argument, drawback after drawback. When dawn arrived he was sitting at his desk, head buried in his hands, but at least he could answer Hephaestion's question. Yes, he had won, though like all victories, winning carried a high price. But it was too late to worry about that now; this, finally, was the real price he had to pay to have Hephaestion back, he finally recognised it. So in a sense, the decision had already been made.

Of course the news spread like wildfire once again, despite Alexander's efforts to contain it. If he heard one more of his Companions bursting in to demand if he had gone insane, he thought he would scream. What did they want, after all? They had protested so many times to go home! He wasn't interested in their complaints; all that mattered was securing Asia. Peucestas would be invaluable, no-one had adapted to Persia the way he had. He could govern, at least for now. Other satrapies and commands were harder to assign; that would take careful thought. Loyalties had to be insured but dangerous ambitions checked. Then he had to consider where to locate Roxana – somewhere far from Stateira and Drypetis, certainly. He had even considered bringing the sisters with him, but then changed his mind. Better to assess the situation back home himself first.

He turned as Bagoas fluttered into the room, his eyes brimming with tears before he prostrated himself at Alexander's feet. _"My King, take me with you!"_ the boy cried breathlessly. Swallowing hard, Alexander drew him up, then took him in his arms. _"Please my King – Alexander – I will do whatever you ask, serve however you want me to, but take me with you!"_

"No, Bagoas," Alexander sighed, stroking his long hair, "I can't, you know I can't. Peucestas will need you – Persia will need you! Think what a great opportunity this is for you! You're not a boy any longer, look at you! You're a young man – yes, a young _man_ – you can't stay serving me forever…"

"But I – Alexander, I – you know that I – "

"I know." Alexander kissed him softly. It might have been the kiss of an affectionate uncle. His lack of passion seemed only to confirm what he already knew, what he could never be cruel enough to admit to Bagoas – that he no longer _needed _him, no longer desperately craved love, unable to refuse it when it was offered; that he no longer needed what Bagoas represented, the power, the mystery, the exotic trappings of the King of Kings. "I know, and I can't tell you how much it means to me, has always meant to me…"

_It's not enough, anymore,_ he knew as he held Bagoas close, _none of this is enough, without Hephaestion._ _Its time to consolidate, to try to make reason and sense of all that's happened since I left Macedon. And much of what happened before that. No more rushing headlong to destiny, those days are over._

_And that was the true price. The end of all our wild, ambitious dreams of conquest and glory, that's all over, for Hephaestion as well as me. With luck at least the gods will let us keep what we've got, though they've been merciful enough in letting me understand how much worse the alternative would be – all of this, and more, without Hephaestion._

Poor Bagoas. His heart might be breaking now, but it would be nothing compared to the miserable life he would have where Alexander was going, where, in a sense, Alexander already was. Even if he had never come close to rivalling Hephaestion in Alexander's heart, even if there now seemed even less room in there for anyone else but Hephaestion, he deserved better than to be cast to the sidelines, neglected and scorned as a novelty or a freak. "A few months, a year maybe…" Alexander wiped away Bagoas' tears, "then I'm sure I'll be back."

He could see Bagoas didn't believe him. The boy could see it too. Could feel the peace Alexander had achieved, a strange and confusing peace though it was. Then a thought occurred to him. If Bagoas had already heard, what about Hephaestion?

"Are you sure, Alexander?" Hephaestion asked yet again as he stood looking out of the window into the courtyard below. "You know how much this means…it was breaking my heart to leave you, but I couldn't bear to think… but are you _sure _you really want to go home? Back to Macedon? This is more than going home, isn't it? This is changing everything, no more conquests? What about the Arabian campaign? Are you really _sure?"_

Alexander drew close behind him, slipping his arms around Hephaestion's middle and resting his cheek against the back of his shoulder. Hephaestion remained stiff in his embrace, as if unwilling to put trust in yet another change in his fortunes. "The choice is not really mine, dearest," Alexander said softly, his lips close to Hephaestion's ear, "the choice was in the hands of the gods. This is the true price we have to pay, don't you see? You were right – you may never be fit to campaign again, and I cannot…" he caught in a sharp breath, pressing his face against his lover's neck, "I do _not _want to be apart from you. The Eros… whoever or whatever he really is… understood when he said it was up to me how hard I made the payment. I can fight against it, I can let you leave and make us both miserable… or I can make the best of the gifts the gods have showered upon me, even as you've been doing ever since you came back."

"And you're really sure about this, Alexander?" Hephaestion whispered, "you're truly content to come home with me?"

"Can't you tell?"

"You seem so certain… but what if you wake one morning, screaming in regret?"

Alexander shrugged. "What if you wake one morning and decide you don't love me anymore? And I've given up everything for you? It could happen, of course, but I don't think it will. When you… when you died, something in me must have died too. Or else the gods really did take it from me when they brought you back. Whatever the truth, I don't care. I've always followed my heart, and this time it's telling me that you and I should go home."

"Just in case you… regret the deal you made…"

"_Hephaestion!"_

"No, but just in case…" Hephaestion had taken on that haunted look once more, the one which suggested he was remembering something. "For what its worth, when I was… before I came back… I think I caught a glimpse of something. A future, the one that was lost when you brought me back."

"Oh. Was it glorious?" Alexander scoffed, "was I ruler of the world?"

Hephaestion didn't smile. "No. You were – " he stopped, shook his head. "Maybe one day, when you _do_ wake up screaming in regret, I'll tell you then."

In the end it took another two months of organising and arguing before Alexander set out with Hephaestion and the first section of the army. It would be a long trip, but unlike Hephaestion, Alexander was not in a great hurry. There would be business to take care of on the way, plans to make; even a visit or two to a satrap who had not expected him to return their way. And then they would be back in Macedon.

And then?

Alexander was not quite sure. He could not quite shrug off the feeling that he had never been intended to return, yet here he was, setting off. An echo from a lost future? In that future, had he never made it home? One day he'd get the truth of that out of his friend. For now, Hephaestion, riding beside him, was almost clapping his hands in joy. "I can't wait, I can't wait!" he declared, "I'm an uncle – again! Did I tell you?"

"Only about a hundred times…" Alexander sighed.

"A fat little baby girl this time! I can't wait to see her! They've asked me to choose a name for her! I can't wait! How about Aphrodite?"

"No."

"Athene?"

"No…"

"Roxana?"

"_No!"_

"Alexandra?"

"Well…"

"No, you're right, that's silly."

"I didn't say – "

"And my father!" Hephaestion chattered on obliviously, "I can't wait to see my father! And – and – " he broke off suddenly, wiping his eyes. "What a fool I am!"

"What's the matter?" Alexander asked gently, as Hephaestion reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Oh, nothing… it's stupid, because I still can't remember her very well, but… oh, Alexander, I can't wait to see my mother!"

Alexander's smile died on his face as a sudden chill ran down his spine. _"Mother…"_ he breathed, clutching tighter to the reins of his horse, _"Oh… Gods…"_

THE END

**BOOK NOTE:** If you're keen on Alexander novels I'd also particularly recommend "A choice of destinies" by Melissa Scott, another alternative history (particularly for fans of Hephaestion!) I've either read or skimmed quite a few Alexander novels and if anyone wants recommendations they're free to email me – if for some reason it doesn't work through the site, you're welcome to do so directly, I promise I'm a person not an advertising company! I'd also recommend Dr Reemes-Zimmermann's "Beyond Renault" website – sorry I don't have the exact address, I think it's changed, but if you run a search on "beyond Renault" you should get it. I'd agree with most of her reviews. Off the top of my head I'd also recommend (of the ones she doesn't review) "The young Alexander the Great" by Naomi Mitchison (a children's book but very charming and the growing relationship between Alex and Hephaestion is very touching) and **WOULDN'T** recommend "Empire of Ashes" or "In the Shadow of Alexander" (especially if you like Hephaestion!) I also didn't think much of "Queen of the Amazons", a disappointing follow up to "Lord of the Two Lands." Last of all, if you can get hold of it (if you're interested try the publishers, before you try Amazon as the second hand prices are daft) I'd thoroughly recommend "The Golden Vine" by Jai Sen, a graphic novel and alternative Alexander history to end all alternative Alexander histories!

If I haven't now destroyed your bank balance, may I finally recommend as a companion to amazon if no-one's heard of them. Their website has links to the UK and several other countries and it's worth comparing prices with amazon if you like second hand books!


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